


Let us speak simply, as you are, as I am

by ronnlynch (ohlmes)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Character, Deaf Courfeyrac, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Getting Together, Libraries, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nonbinary Character, Sign Language, Slow Burn, Texting, Trans Enjolras, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlmes/pseuds/ronnlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can I sit with you?” Combeferre says, too fast. Dimples frowns at him. Combeferre blinks. Dimples sighs. They press a hand to their chest, then point a finger to their ear and mouth. It’s Combeferre’s time to frown. He’s aware of every one of his 183 centimetres as he stands up in the middle of the library. Dimples holds up a hand and this time Combeferre understands. He waits as Dimples grabs an orange post-it and writes something down, then hands it to Combeferre. In tiny handwriting, he reads:</p><p>
  <b>I’m deaf. Can you repeat that, like, slower?</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theglitterati](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/gifts).



> I must start by claiming that English is not my first language, neither is French, not even LSF. I am a hearing Brazilian person taking a beginners class in Brazilian Sign Language who got overexcited about it and decided to write this wild thing in the last month of her undergrad course. Needless to say, this work might contain inaccuracies about many things, even though I am doing all the research I can and I have an amazing beta. If you find any mistakes or anything that could be considered disrespectful or just wrong, please tell me right away. Of course, all comments are much appreciated and will make my life better in moments of desperation.
> 
> Many enthusiastic thanks to Kyrstin for all the rivising, insight, excitement, inspiration and overall awesomeness. This fic literally wouldn't exist without you. You are the best.
> 
> The title is from Neruda's _Ode to Federico García Lorca_.

Human perception and memory work in such interesting ways. There are people we see every day and we couldn't describe them if our lives depended on it, because for some reason we never found them interesting enough to really notice them. (Although Freud did say that we never really forget the faces we see; they just get stored in the furthest corners of our subconscious.) Still, there are also people we keep seeing everywhere, even though we are not exactly acquainted with them; sometimes, they become so familiar to us that we start to consider them a part of our lives, even before we know the first thing about them.

College is one of the places that makes this phenomenon more acute. Mostly without meaning to, we tangle our lives briefly with thousands of people that happen to have a routine similar to ours. First, there are the employees that work to maintain the appropriate environment for our living and education. Then there are the students who share our dorms, eat at the cafeteria at the same time we do, study in the same places, and go to the same lectures. It usually takes us time to notice them, before we begin to realize they have been a permanent fixture of our day-to-day lives for God knows how long.

Those are the thoughts on Combeferre's mind while he's having breakfast in the cafeteria. When he eats alone – which he does a lot, given the fact that his schedule is dramatically different from his friends' – he makes the effort to see the people around him. Although still reserved, he forgets to be self-conscious when he has those opportunities to observe his unknown colleagues and their habits: what they wear, how they eat, whom they talk to and about what.

(That might seem a little obtrusive. It is for scientific purposes, though, nothing more. Anthropology is definitely on the long list of the other majors he might choose if he wasn't already a pre-med student.)

When he is just finishing his meal, his peripheral vision catches a movement. It’s someone he has never seen before. He is sure of that; he would remember this very handsome guy –

Combeferre kicks himself mentally, remembering Enjolras’s speech (during which Jehan had nodded vehemently) about how you shouldn’t assume a person’s gender by their appearance –

with big bright eyes, lovely curls and Combeferre notices that he might be staring, because the person stares back and smiles (with huge dimples, too) while sitting down two chairs away from him. He feels his face warm and thanks several deities for his dark skin. He nods in a way he thinks might seem polite and quickly grabs his things to leave. Later, he is upset because he can’t concentrate on his morning classes.

***

The next day, Combeferre doesn’t have afternoon classes, so he goes to the library to work on an upcoming paper. He sees Dimples (that is how he addresses them in his head, for the lack of a better name – the real one) sitting alone at a table with 3 piles of books. Today their outfit features a short-sleeve button down with a flower pattern. Combeferre finds it incredibly endearing. He makes sure to sit far away, in a place where he can’t be distracted by beautiful faces and flashy clothing choices. Still, he doesn’t get much work done.

It just keeps happening. Combeferre sees them at the library, but also at the cafeteria and every other Tuesday when he’s leaving his last class of the afternoon.

Combeferre doesn’t remember having a real crush in a long time. It hits him that it is indeed a crush when he sees them at the library wearing a very soft-looking striped sweater and finds himself wondering how would it feel under his hands. He wonders about height differences and hair texture and then his mind goes south and he realizes that his situation is bad.

He feels intrusive.

He feels desperate to do something about it.

He does nothing about it.

***

He does something about it a week later, when it is absolutely necessary.

There is a part of the library that Combeferre really likes. The tables are close to a wall filled with outlets, the wi-fi connection is actually good, the temperature and light are pleasant. Obviously, he is not the only one who likes it, so normally it’s not easy to find an empty table there, but today the place is unusually packed.

He looks around for a place to sit and then he sees them; Dimples is alone at a table, looking a little rumpled and forcefully chewing a pen as they read something. If Combeferre remembers it right, Dimples actually had smiled at him a few times when passing by. They seem friendly. It’s his own problem if he developed a crush on someone to whom he never talked. He breathes in deeply, gathering courage. He can do this.

He walks over and whispers, “Hey.”

Dimples keeps reading.

After a while, probably sensing someone literally just standing and freaking out by their side, Dimples finally looks up. Gods, Combeferre was not prepared to see those eyes so close.

“Can I sit with you?” Combeferre says, too fast. Dimples frowns at him. Combeferre blinks. Dimples sighs. They press a hand to their chest, then point a finger to their ear and mouth. It’s Combeferre’s time to frown. He’s aware of every one of his 183 centimetres as he stands up in the middle of the library. Dimples holds up a hand and this time Combeferre understands. He waits as Dimples grabs an orange post-it and writes something down, then hands it to Combeferre. In tiny handwriting, he reads:

**I’m deaf. Can you repeat that, like, slower?**

Oh.

He looks up and Dimples is looking at him expectantly. He whispers, slowly, “Can I sit with you?” while gesturing at the empty chair. They smile and nod at him.

While he sits and arranges his belongings on top of the table, he waits for his heart to slow down. He rips a page from his notebook and writes down,

_Thanks. I’m Combeferre, by the way._

He passes the paper. It goes back and forth a few times:

**Anytime! I’m Courfeyrac. I would ask you if you come here often, but I already know the answer**

Combeferre bites his lip to keep from smiling as he looks up. Courfeyrac –

it’s so good to finally know their real name –

is looking at him, lips curled up and dimples deep as ever, resting their chin on their hand.

_Really? How so?_

**You’re not hard to notice**

_Is that a good thing?_

**Oh, it sure is**

_Thanks, then._

**You’re welcome. It’s very nice to meet you and I don’t wanna be rude but… I really need to finish this book :(**

_Absolutely, I don’t want to disturb you! Let’s get to work._

Each of them does their own work, and it’s nice. Combeferre doesn’t forget for a minute that the person sitting across from him is almost too hot to be true, but at the same time it doesn’t feel like they’re complete strangers.

Time passes quickly. Soon Courfeyrac is tapping very lightly at the table, inches from where Combeferre’s hand is. Combeferre looks up. Courfeyrac mouths silently, I have to go. Combeferre definitely does not pout, because he is a grown man. Instead, he nods and waves awkwardly. He pointedly ignores the image of Courfeyrac’s retreating ass in his peripheral vision.

***

The door to the flat closes forcefully and startles Combeferre. He had spent the last three hours reading about deafness, Deaf culture, and sign language. Now he was just watching videos on YouTube about LSF and trying to learn some basic vocabulary. He pauses the video too quickly and looks up at Enjolras, who is angrily hanging up his coat.

"Hello," Combeferre says softly. He knows from experience that when Enjolras is in a mood, it is best to approach him with caution. At his greeting, Enjolras sighs tiredly and drags himself to the sofa to curl up against his friend. Combeferre lets him settle and starts rubbing his back in a soothing pattern.

"What happened?"

"There's this cynical asshole in my Philosophy lecture who never fails to get on my nerves... Today we had a debate in class and he managed to break down every single one of my arguments."

Combeferre grimaces. He knows how much being right is important to his friend. "I'm sorry, Enj. Still, I'm sure you did a great job."

"Yeah, it was ok. I got an A. But he was so proud of himself... I just wanted to wipe that smug look out of his face."

Combeferre snorts.

"What?" Enjolras narrows his eyes.

"What does he look like?"

Enjolras chews his lip. "Hmmm… he’s pale as a ghost. Some days I think he’s dying, really. He has dark curly hair, murky blue eyes, and a crooked nose. Maybe someone punched him. He has a mole here” – he points at his right cheek – “and he’s shorter than me, but more built, like he works out. He always wears the same hoodie. And I’ve noticed that sometimes he has paint or charcoal on his hands, so I’m pretty sure he’s an art major."

Combeferre's shoulders shake with silent laughter. Enjolras stares at him.

"That was... detailed."

"I know what my enemies look like, ‘Ferre."

"Sure," he smirks.

"What is that?" Enjolras not-so-subtly changes the subject. He squints at the forgotten laptop on Combeferre's lap. “Sign language?"

“Yeah.” Combeferre pushes his glasses up, trying to hide his guilty face.

“Did you know that Feuilly’s parents are Deaf? LSF is his first language.”

“Really? I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. So, are you researching it for any specific reason or are you just being yourself?”

Combeferre raises his eyebrows. “What does that even mean?”

“The latter, then. Alright, I’m just gonna take a shower and then we’ll go out for dinner, ok?”

“Sure.”

Combeferre is glad Enjolras didn’t press the matter. For some reason, he just wants to keep it to himself.

***

At this point, there isn’t a day in which Combeferre doesn’t look for Courfeyrac everywhere he goes. It’s a tiresome game. He sees them once from afar, next to a tall brunette. They are signing to each other quickly and with ease. He sees Courfeyrac laugh at something, eyes crinkling and mouth hanging open, and Combeferre’s heart clenches. His phone feels heavy on his pocket as he remembers the LSF app he downloaded.

Then it’s Courfeyrac’s turn to find him.

Combeferre is in his usual spot at the library, revising a paper, when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. Courfeyrac greets him with a bright smile and motions at the table. Combeferre nods, adjusts his glasses, and rearranges his stuff on the table to make space.

He doesn’t know what to do. He remembers Courfeyrac signing to their friend – maybe something other than friend? – and thinks of using a few signs he learned, but it wouldn’t take long for Courfeyrac to notice his vocabulary is incredibly limited. And there is so much he wants to know.

He looks at Courfeyrac setting their stuff on the table and notices what they’re wearing: a printed t-shirt with the words “liberté egalité bisexualité” over the image of La Liberté guidant le peuple, and a smooth-looking leather jacket on top of it. Courfeyrac looks nice. Too nice. Combeferre is not a violent person at all, but he feels like smashing something. Preferably his own mouth against Courfeyrac’s.

That mental image seems much more concrete now that he has evidence that Courfeyrac’s sexual orientation favors him.

He wonders how to start a conversation. He takes a piece of paper and starts by simply saying the truth.

_Nice t-shirt._

**Thanks :D I like your tattoos, can I see them?**

Combeferre’s got his sleeves rolled up today, which is rare.  He knows that most people get really impressed when they see it, because, according to what he heard many times, he doesn’t dress or act like someone who would have tattoos sleeves – whatever that means.

He glances at his inked arms and then at Courfeyrac, who’s looking at him and waiting. Combeferre extends his arms over Courfeyrac’s open hands.

His arms are a mess. He basically started tattooing the things he’s interested about and only stopped when there was no space left. There are designs of the phases of the moon, the Solar System, a couple of constellations, some hieroglyphs, a moth, a chemical formula, the piece of a beehive, a caduceus, a single poppy, the DNA helix, a golden spiral, and The Vitruvian Man. They are all colorless; just simple black lines with no shading and no filling, except for the few that are dotted. He likes them, but sometimes he feels self-conscious when people stare for too long or wonder about them too hard.

Being under Courfeyrac’s gaze, though, is a whole new experience. A good amount of his arms are still covered by the sleeves of his shirt, but Courfeyrac seems interested enough in what they can see. Courfeyrac looks at Combeferre and points a finger at his skin, asking for permission to touch. Combeferre nods and instantly wishes he didn’t, because Courfeyrac’s touch is soft and barely-there; it tickles a little bit, and it feels more intimate than it should. In an instant, it’s over.

Courfeyrac signs and mouths «thanks». Without thinking too much, Combeferre signs «it was nothing», and suddenly doesn’t feel so dumb about all the LSF videos he’s  been watching, thanks to the approving glance he gets from Courfeyrac – despite the fact that his glasses got in the way a little bit.

«You know LSF?» Courfeyrac signs. Combeferre answers with what he is pretty sure means «I’m learning». Courfeyrac signs something complicated that he doesn’t get. He signs, «what?» but only gets a smirk and a head shake in response.

Combeferre realizes they’re just staring at each other now, so he quickly grabs the paper.

_Let’s study?_

Courfeyrac reads it and nods.

They work for three hours nonstop, until Courfeyrac notices the time and has to leave again.

One hour later, Combeferre is packing his things to go and notices Courfeyrac has left a notebook behind. It’s a nice one, a hardcover with creamy-colored pages. Combeferre flips it open and reads Courfeyrac’s name and a phone number. Well, then, it will be easy to give it back.

Not being able to help his curiosity, he flips through the pages, filled with Courfeyrac’s already familiar handwriting. The last few pages are covered in sketches in pencil, and they are mostly portraits. Curiously, one of the various people portrayed looks a lot like Enjolras. But Combeferre is sure it’s a coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The t-shirt Courf is wearing exists and you can buy it [here](http://www.redbubble.com/people/lotstradamus/works/16069517-libert-egalit-bisexualit?p=t-shirt&style=mens).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that sometimes the sentences between guillemets, like «all right?», feel a bit weird. That's because I'm trying to be as faithful as I can to the structure of French and LSF while writing in English.
> 
> This chapter is shorter than the first one, but I wanted to update soon. I hope you liked it!

Combeferre stares at his phone for a long time. He types and deletes many messages, then he comes up with something he’s satisfied with. He presses the send button.

 **Combeferre at 8:37 pm:** _Hello, this is Combeferre. You left your notebook on the table and I looked inside to check if there was a phone number. I hope you don’t mind, I thought you might need it back_.

Then he thinks it’s too formal, so he adds:

 **Combeferre at 8:38 pm:** _Nice drawings, by the way :-)_

He drops the phone on the bed and sighs, covering his face with his hands. What is he so nervous about it? It’s just a text. He’s done Courfeyrac a favor. It’s not a big deal. He’s contemplating if he should do something instead of lying in bed and overthinking when the answer comes in.

 **Courfeyrac at 8:41 pm:** _omg you’re awesome, thank you so much!! i could get it from you tomorrow, are you gonna be in the library?_

Combeferre smiles at the phone.

 **Courfeyrac at 8:42 pm:** _the drawings aren’t mine btw, they’re from a friend. i’m gonna pass him the good reviews._

Well, so Courfeyrac isn’t the super-talented artist who drew on his notebook. Who is it, then? Do people just doodle on other people’s things? Is this normal behavior between friends? Combeferre shakes the thought away.

 **Combeferre at 8:43 pm:** _Yeah, I’ll be there the whole afternoon._

 **Courfeyrac at 8:44 pm:** _:D_

So now he has to keep the conversation going.

 **Combeferre at 8:45 pm:** _So, I’ve been meaning to ask something. I hope you don’t find it too weird. What are your pronouns? I’ve been addressing you as they/them/their in my head because I didn’t want to assume._

He doesn’t really feel too bad about asking because he’s just trying to be safe.

 **Courfeyrac at 8:47 pm:** _good to know i’ve been in your head this much haha ;)_

He freezes. He didn’t even mean to imply that, but well... it is the truth, isn’t it?

 **Courfeyrac at 8:47 pm:** _and it’s not weird, thanks for asking. he/him/his, but they/them/their is cool too. hbu?_

That’s a good reaction. Combeferre is glad.

 **Combeferre at 8:48 pm:** _My pronouns are the same._

He can’t think of anything else to say. He’s still a bit shaken by Courfeyrac’s… flirting? So he decides to end the conversation. Better to retreat before he says something he’ll regret.

 **Combeferre at 8:50 pm:** _Hey, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?_

He can’t let go of the phone until the answer comes.

 **Courfeyrac at 8:53 pm:** _ok, good night! x_

Combeferre finds himself smiling until he falls asleep.

***

Courfeyrac arrives around 5pm, wearing a sweater and the fluffiest scarf Combeferre has ever seen. Combeferre signs «hello», and he can feel the corners of his mouth curling. He knows he couldn’t stop it if he tried. Courfeyrac smiles easily, signing «all right?», so he answers with «all right». Combeferre is surprised at his own ease, so he dares to sign what he practiced before: «I have your notebook». He basks in how Courfeyrac satisfied looks at every sign he gets right. Combeferre had thought Courfeyrac might just get his notebook and leave, but he sits down, signing «thanks» and taking the book.

They study for a while. Combeferre steals some glances at Courfeyrac from time to time. He has been yawning loudly, more and more frequently. He actually looks tired. Right now, he looks like he’s about to fall face-first into his book.

Combeferre grabs his phone and sends a text message to him.

 **Combeferre at 5:47 pm:** _You look like you need some coffee._

Courfeyrac’s cellphone vibrates and lights up on the table. He jumps alert, probably having been all but sleeping with his eyes open before. He smirks at Combeferre before typing an answer.

 **Courfeyrac at 5:49 pm:** _Ughhhh, yes :( caffeine would save my soul right now_

 **Combeferre at 5:50 pm:** _I have an idea. You’re going to take a nap while I buy us coffee and then after you drink it you’ll feel like a whole new person._

 **Courfeyrac at 5:51 pm:** _OMG I love this idea! you’re a life saver, honestly_

 **Combeferre at 5:52 pm:** _Well, I am studying to be a doctor, after all._

 **Courfeyrac at 5:53 pm:** _are you?? that’s awesome_

Combeferre realizes now that they have never talked about anything as personal as what they’re studying, which is probably strange.

 **Combeferre at 5:54 pm:** _I am! What about you?_

 **Courfeyrac at 5:55 pm:** _i’m a pre-law student_

 **Combeferre at 5:56 pm:** _Do you like it?_

 **Courfeyrac at 5:57 pm:** _my parents like it well enough for me, haha. i’d happily be a drama major, but i’m already queer AND deaf, so i wouldn’t dare fight them on this. anyway, law is ok, i think i could really help people in my community_

OK, so _that_ was personal. Combeferre looks up at Courfeyrac, who shrugs, smiling a little. He starts typing again.

 **Courfeyrac at 5:58 pm:** _i thought there would be coffee??_

 **Combeferre at 5:59 pm:** _Sure. What can I get you?_

 **Courfeyrac at 6:00 pm:** _a mochaccino, please_

 **Combeferre at 6:01 pm:** _Ok._

While Combeferre puts his coat on, Courfeyrac waves at him. Combeferre looks and sees he’s trying to give him money. Combeferre signs «no need!»; Courfeyrac just stares at him until he takes it. He’s going now, but he feels a hand close around his arm. He looks back, and Courfeyrac is typing at his phone. He receives a text.

 **Courfeyrac at 6:03 pm:** _don’t you have anything but this coat? it’s pretty windy and cold outside_

 **Combeferre at 6:04 pm:** _It’s ok, I’ll be quick._

 **Courfeyrac at 6:05 pm:** _no, you won’t get sick because of me, wait_

Courfeyrac stands up and Combeferre realizes that is the first time they’re standing close. He’s probably 10 cm taller than Courfeyrac. Still, he makes a point of unwrapping the scarf off his neck and stands on his tiptoes to wrap it around Combeferre’s. «Go», Courfeyrac signs, smiling at him.

He goes, and he has to admit to himself that Courfeyrac had been right: it is pretty cold. He buries his face in the scarf and has the chance to breathe the fabric in. It smells really good, which doesn't help him at all.

The walk to the coffee shop is quick, but the line is pretty long. He gets both of their orders and walks quickly back to the library. When he arrives, Courfeyrac is sleeping curled up on the table. It’s adorable. He hates that word, but there isn’t any other to describe what he sees. He sets the cups on the table and sits down. Courfeyrac doesn’t even flinch, so he touches his arm lightly. Even through the sweater, he can feel that his skin is very warm. He wants to feel so much more. Courfeyrac stirs and looks up, taking a moment to gather his surroundings. His eyes focus on Combeferre and a smile plays on his lips. Reaching for the coffee, he signs «thanks».

Combeferre watches as he takes the cup and opens the lid to blow some air into it so he doesn’t burn himself. Trying not to stare, he looks down at his things and rearranges them to resume his work. A few moments later, he hears a low moan, and looks up again. Courfeyrac is holding the cup in one hand and his phone in the other. He has a pleased expression on his flushed face.

 **Courfeyrac at 6:18 pm:** _this is perfect, thank you so much <3_

Combeferre is so, _so_ gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anything, I must warn everyone about the change of the rating. I've also added a few tags and I'll be doing it until the fic ends. Please notice them. Also, trigger warning for a slightly voyeuristic moment in this chapter.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful [wifey](http://interesting-mistakes.tumblr.com/), because I'm literally the worst and I forgot her birthday. Z, you are one of my favorite people in the world. I admire you a lot and you make me happy without even trying. Congratulations on surviving a quarter of a century. Beyoncé, Nicki and I are very proud of the person you are. Never forget that you are loved and worthy of the best things in the world. I love you and I hope to see you again very soon. Enjoy!

Combeferre gets home and finds Jehan lying leisurely on his sofa.

"Hello," he greets them, walking into the living room.

"Good evening, Ferre!" Jehan stands up and meets him halfway. As always, Combeferre leans down as Jehan stands on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He imagines the same scene with someone else in Jehan's position.

"I love your scarf! That's a lovely shade of burgundy. It suits you."

Combeferre smiles pleasantly, remembering when he tried to give the scarf back to Courfeyrac. He hadn't accepted it, claiming it looked better on Combeferre.

"Thanks," Combeferre says, thinking he should introduce Courfeyrac to Jehan, so they can bond over their taste for flashy clothes. He reflects, though not unkindly, that Courfeyrac shows to have some sense about what he's wearing, whereas Jehan seems to simply throw clothes on their body, disregarding if the pieces match or not.

"May I know to what I owe the pleasure of your presence?" Combeferre asks, setting his backpack in a chair and walking towards the kitchen, gesturing for Jehan to follow.

"I came to see Enjolras. He left the key out and told me to make myself comfortable until he gets home."

Combeferre nods. "Tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

While Combeferre prepares the tea, he notices the book in his friend's hand. "What are you reading?"

"Neruda, one of my favorites."

Everyone in their group of friends reads a lot, but they read different things. Enjolras reads the news quite obsessively, but also history books, philosophy and, of course, political science theory, because that's what he studies at university. Combeferre reads a bit of all that, plus all the science books he can get his hands on, and a good amount of fantasy and sci-fi novels, because he is shamelessly addicted to them. Jehan, as a lit major, is more of a classic literature person. They are particularly enthusiastic about mythology and poetry – and very vocal about it.

"Ah, let me show you something..." They flip the pages back and find what they're looking for. Jehan reads aloud, with perfect Spanish pronunciation and a voice filled with emotion:

“ _Ven a que te corone, joven de la salud / y de la mariposa, joven puro / como un negro relámpago perpetuamente libre, / y conversando entre nosotros, / ahora, cuando no queda nadie entre las rocas, / hablemos sencillamente como eres tú y soy yo: / para qué sirven los versos si no es para el rocío? / Para qué sirven los versos si no es para esa noche / en que un puñal amargo nos averigua, para ese día, / para ese crepúsculo, para ese rincón roto / donde el golpeado corazón del hombre se dispone a morir?_ ”

"Well, that sounded beautiful, but my Spanish is very weak, so I didn't understand much."

"One possible translation is _Come to what crowns you, youth of health, / gay butterfly, youth pure /  as a black lightning perpetually free; / and talking between ourselves. / now, when no one is left among the rocks, /  let us speak simply, as you are, as I am: / what are the verses for, if not for the dew? / What are the verses for, if not for this night /  in which a bitter dagger finds us out, for this day, / for this twilight, for this broken corner / where the beaten heart of man prepares to die?_ ”

“Ok, that’s definitely beautiful.”

“It's part of Neruda's Ode to Federico García Lorca. It's a long poem and it's quite sad and dark, but that part reminded me of you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Come on! ‘Youth of health, gay butterfly, youth pure as a black lightning perpetually free’… that’s totally you.” Jehan smiles.

“Did you just call me a gay butterfly?” Combeferre tries to sound outraged, holding a hand to his chest, but he is already laughing.

Jehan’s laugh is loud and bright as it fills the kitchen. It’s captivating.

“What are we giggling about?” Enjolras asks from the kitchen door.

“Hey, Enj!” Combeferre waves, surprised, not having heard Enjolras come in.

“Hello!” Jehan says a bit breathlessly and strides to hug Enjolras. “We were just discussing poetry.”

“Alright...” Enjolras narrows his eyes, unconvinced, but falls into the embrace.

Combeferre recovers and remembers about the tea. “Enjolras, want some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Combeferre pours it and hands the mugs to his friends.

“Is that scarf new?” Enjolras tilts his head.

Combeferre had been sipping tea and chokes on it. “Hm, yeah...” he coughs.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Oh!” Jehan points a finger at Combeferre’s face. For a moment, he thinks Jehan will spill all his secrets, but then they continue. “This has nothing to do with your scarf, but I’ve just remembered the idea that I had for our project. I thought we could make a zine about gender. We write the texts, I could write some poetry, too... But we need an artist.”

“I think I might know someone,” Combeferre offers.

“Who?”

“I don’t know their name; I just saw some of their work. But I can find out.”

“That’s great!”

They fall into a heavy brainstorming session and everyone forgets about the scarf, thankfully.

***

When Jehan leaves and Enjolras goes to his room, Combeferre seizes the opportunity of needing his help to talk more to Courfeyrac.

 **Combeferre at 9:03 pm:** _Hey, Courf! (Is it ok if I call you that?) I need a help of an artist for a project and I thought about the sketches in your notebook. Do you think you could you send me the contact information of your friend?_

 **Courfeyrac at 9:05 pm:** _hi! absolutely, that’s what my friends call me :) i’m gonna send you a message with his info ok?_

Courfeyrac does it right away. Curiously, the contact’s name is just the letter R. Combeferre decides to let Jehan deal with it, copying and pasting the information in a text addressed to them.

 **Combeferre at 9:07 pm:** _Thank you so much!_

 **Courfeyrac at 9:08 pm:** _you’re welcome! so, i’ve just seen the history of our conversation and i noticed i sent you a <3??? sorry about that, i was still in the process of waking up and i got excited about the coffee lol_

Combeferre is glad he is alone when he reads this, because his face probably shows how hurt he is. He rereads the text five times, feeling varying degrees of despair. He decides to not let Courfeyrac know.

 **Combeferre at 9:11 pm:** _Haha, it’s ok. I didn’t mind. I know how it feels to be overexcited about coffee too._

 **Courfeyrac at 9:12 pm:** _:)_

 **Courfeyrac at 9:13 pm:** _ok i need to ask you a very important question_

 **Combeferre at 9:14 pm:** _Do it._

 **Courfeyrac at 9:15 pm:** _dinosaurs or aliens?_

And that starts a conversation that doesn’t end until 1am, when Combeferre literally falls asleep with the phone in his hand.

***

Combeferre and Courfeyrac establish a proper routine. They meet in the library almost every day. They pass notes on pieces of paper while they study together. They learn each other’s coffee orders, and there is an unspoken rule that the last one to get to the library must be carrying coffee for both of them. Combeferre starts taking real LSF classes and Courfeyrac helps him practice and expand his vocabulary. They don’t purposely meet anywhere else, but they greet each other when they cross paths around campus. And they text a lot.

It turns out Courfeyrac shares information about himself very easily. Combeferre learns he is the only deaf child in a big family in which everyone else is hearing. He has 5 siblings, younger and older. Courfeyrac was raised in a bilingual setting. Everyone in the family learned LSF for him, and he studied at the Institut _National de Jeunes Sourds de Paris_ his entire life before college. But, at the same time, he was taught lip reading and spent years in speech therapy to learn how to talk. When he got the opportunity to have a cochlear implant, he denied it.

One of the things he loves the most is acting. He had been part of a Deaf drama club, but he had to leave it when he went to college. He still thinks sometimes about getting his degree just to prove a point to his parents, and then doing what he wants.

He convinced Combeferre to download Snapchat, which means he receives dozens of selfies – Courfeyrac has a talent for them – and pictures of plants, the sky, cute animals, cups of coffee, and his friends. Courfeyrac has a very close group of friends. They hang out a lot and they all know LSF. There’s also his roommate, who is apparently a linguistic genius and learned sign language at an expert level in a few months.

Of course, there are also the things Combeferre learned about Courfeyrac without him telling him: he is a very tactile person once he gets to know you, and his hands are always warm; he makes faces that mirror the emotions of the characters when he’s reading fiction; he usually wears very colorful and patterned socks; he can’t keep still; he blushes in a splotchy way when he walks in the cold; he’s impatient and stubborn; he has too many social networks; he is very enthusiastic about anything he likes.

After a month of this, Combeferre thinks it’s safe to say they are friends. Good friends, even. His feelings don’t exactly subside, they just change their nature. He is still painfully attracted to Courfeyrac; he still notices that he has incredible thighs under his skinny jeans and he still feels the urge to kiss the mole he has under his right ear. But it’s not a crush anymore. He cares more about Courfeyrac with each passing day and he just wants to spend time with him, because few times before has Combeferre felt so close to anyone. He’s not willing to let that connection go away because of his unrequited desire.

***

Combeferre is deeply focused on his textbook until Courfeyrac sticks a pink post-it to the back of his hand.

**Can you help me find a book?**

Combeferre lets out a slightly annoyed sigh. Ever since Courfeyrac discovered Combeferre is good at guiding himself around the library, he’s been taking advantage of him. Courfeyrac glues another post-it on Combeferre, now on his wrist.

**It doesn’t need to be now, finish what you’re doing**

Combeferre looks at his clock. It’s already 8:07 pm. They have been here for a long time, and it’s been a while since Combeferre sat down to study. It would be good to take a walk and get his blood flowing again.

He stands up and signs «we’ll go now». Courfeyrac smiles brightly at him. Combeferre doesn’t have the slightest chance to win.

They walk to the computer for consultation and Courfeyrac types the title of the book to get its call number. It’s on the second floor, one floor up from where they are, so they just take the stairs. Courfeyrac is faster; he goes in front of Combeferre, who absolutely avoids looking up.

Walking through the aisle is easy. Now Combeferre is the one who guides. Then he hears a noise. He stops in his tracks; Courfeyrac almost collides with him. He looks at Courfeyrac to ask if he heard something, and immediately feels incredibly foolish. He holds his hand up, gesturing at Courf to wait, and strains his ears. He hears it again. Is it… moaning?

Courfeyrac is looking at him like he has grown a second head.

The sound is definitely moaning. It’s getting louder, and it sounds close to where they are.

Combeferre doesn’t have his phone on him and he’s not sure how to sign this, so he mouths silently to Courfeyrac, “I think there are people fucking down there.” For emphasis, he makes an obscene gesture on the fucking part. Courfeyrac’s eyes widen comically.

«I wanna see», Courfeyrac signs.

«You crazy?»

Courfeyrac wiggles his eyebrows at him and starts walking backwards.

Cursing silently, Combeferre follows.

They walk slowly, and Combeferre wishes his shoes wouldn’t make so much noise against the wooden floor. Anyway, it doesn’t matter much, because the moaning sounds cover it up. When they reach the end of the shelf, Courfeyrac moves carefully, hiding his body behind the shelf while he peeks. He looks for a few seconds and turns back to gaze at Combeferre. He’s blushing harder than Combeferre has ever seen, his face all covered in red stains.

His curiosity getting the best of him, Combeferre looks too. It’s two guys. One of them is pressed against the stacks and the other one is kneeling, blowing him. His eyes focus on a hand gripping the shelf forcefully; dark hair being pulled roughly; jeans rolled mid-thigh; a very pink open mouth. He drags his eyes away and comes back to the other corridor, resting again the shelf with his eyes closed. He breathes deeply a few times. When he opens his eyes, Courfeyrac is staring at him, and Combeferre catches the sight of him adjusting his pants.

So they are both hard.

Great.

Combeferre does what a wise person would do: instead of lunging at Courfeyrac, he just runs past him. He runs until he finds the bathroom. He breathes deeply, takes his glasses off,  throws cold water on his face, stares at his blurry face on the mirror and thinks about horrible and undesirable things.

Courfeyrac comes in a couple of minutes later and Combeferre is glad he can’t see him properly. He dries his face with paper towel very calmly, then puts his glasses back on, seeing Courf come into focus on his side. To his surprise, but not really, Courf has an amused look on his face.

«I’ll get the book tomorrow», he signs to the mirror. Combeferre nods and laughs nervously.

They go back to their table, acting like nothing happened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can all forgive (and maybe appreciate) this incredibly self-indulgent chapter. I know that there isn't a lot going on now, but I PROMISE this fic has a plot. Everything is planned out. Please stick with me. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People get out of the library, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for taking so long to update. I have good reasons, though. Since last chapter I got an A in my Sign Language class, finished my undergrad course _and_ got in to grad school. Now I'm on my vacations and I'm free to write 24/7! Thanks for the comments, by the way, they mean a lot to me.
> 
> I'm very fond of this chapter for several reasons, and I hope you like it too. :)

As finals approach, Combeferre spends more and more time in the library – more than he ever has, to the point that even Enjolras, oblivious as he is, notices his absence at home. And it’s not just because of Courfeyrac, because he isn’t even there that much anyway. Though even when he isn’t, Combeferre finds it reassuring that he _could_ be. He has come to think of the library as _their_ place, even though Courfeyrac probably has a million better things to do than hole up in there with him all day.

Anyway, the main reason is that Combeferre found out he is much more productive and comfortable there than at home, and this term he has more work to be done than ever before.

One day, Enjolras asks if he can keep Combeferre company while he studies, claiming he has a paper to work on and he could use some help.

“Sure,” Combeferre says, because there’s no point in arguing, and no reason why he wouldn’t want to spend time with Enjolras. Besides, Combeferre is quite sure Courfeyrac won’t show up – he knows he is busy on Wednesdays.

They get there and Enjolras sits by his side, instead of across from him, like Courfeyrac always does. Enjolras spreads his things around him on the table, making an incredible mess, and it feels like they’re working at home, except that the lightning is better and the chair he’s sitting on is the right height.

Combeferre is concentrated on his work when he feels someone staring at him. Much to his surprise, but not to his disappointment, it’s Courfeyrac, frozen to the spot across the room. Combeferre waves at him and Courfeyrac, hesitating, starts to walk over. Probably having seen Combeferre move his hand, Enjolras looks up too, watching the stranger approaching them.

«Hi», Combeferre signs, smiling. «Why are you here today?»

«I need to study», Courfeyrac signs, and Combeferre marvels at how he can do it so matter-of-factly.

Combeferre nods, a little bit taken aback, afraid he might have been rude.

«This is E-N-J-O-L-R-A-S». Combeferre points at his friend. He can see the recognition in Courfeyrac’s face, probably remembering that Combeferre has mentioned his best friend and flatmate a thousand times when they were texting.

«I didn’t know he was pretty», Courfeyrac signs, smirking.

Combeferre raises his eyebrows and glances at Enjolras, who has been frowning deeply as he looked back and forth at them.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre says quietly, without turning completely to his friend, to make sure Courfeyrac can still see his face while he speaks, “this is Courfeyrac. He...” Combeferre spares Courfeyrac a glance as he tries to come up with the words. “He’s the one who has been keeping me company here for the last two months.” At the end of his sentence, he finds himself smiling again.

Enjolras looks at Combeferre curiously and then offers his hand to Courfeyrac, who takes it with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Enjolras says to Courfeyrac.

«Enchanted», Courfeyrac signs and mouths back at him. «Can I sit?», he signs at Combeferre.

«Sure.»

Courfeyrac takes his usual place and prepares himself to study.

A couple of minutes later Combeferre looks up at both of them and something clicks in him about how _right_ this feels. These are two of the people he cares for the most in the entire world, and they are both in one place, and there’s nothing weird about it at all. He still doesn’t know how they might find ways to communicate properly, or even if they are going to be friends, and he’s still not sure why he didn’t tell Enjolras about Courfeyrac. But now that they’ve met, he feels foolish to have not introduced them earlier, because it was so simple.

Each of them works on what they need to. Combeferre revises a chapter from his textbook and makes flashcards; Enjolras types in his laptop and asks Combeferre for help every now and then; Courfeyrac buries his face in a massive law book and highlights so much that Combeferre isn’t entirely sure how effective that can be.

Two hours later, Combeferre hears Courfeyrac yawn loudly and looks up. He’s supporting his chin on his hand and he looks bored out of his mind. Combeferre reaches up and touches his forearm.

«Coffee?» Combeferre signs.

Courfeyrac laughs breathily, nodding.

“Enj,” Combeferre whispers. Enjolras holds his hand up and finishes typing something before he looks at him. “I’m going on a coffee run, do you want something?”

“A latte with almond milk would be amazing,” Enjolras muses.

“I’ll be right back”, Combeferre says, at the same time as he signs something similar.

Then he practically runs to get their orders, because he too is in desperate need of caffeine.

When he comes back, he finds Courfeyrac and Enjolras passing a piece of paper back and forth and smiling to each other. He feels like they’re going to get along.

 *******

Two days later, Combeferre is alone in the library. Not just alone as in without his friends: he is quite sure he is the only living person there except for the fully-asleep person at the circulation desk and the security staff. Because it’s two in the morning on a Friday. He has never stayed this late before, but now he is very thankful about the library being open 24 hours a day.

Honestly, he’s not producing that much anymore. After eight hours working on a paper, having stopped only twice to walk, eat, drink water and go to the bathroom, he definitely feels quite numb. Numb and, apparently, just shy of his grip on reality, because he’s having visions. Courfeyrac appears in the corner of his eye and Combeferre shakes off the image. It doesn’t go away.

A warm hand presses firmly on his shoulder and Combeferre considers that it might not be a vision after all.

«You ok?» Courfeyrac signs when Combeferre regards him.

Combeferre nods. He is so glad to see Courfeyrac, but he can’t quite demonstrate it now.

«Where’s your phone?» Courfeyrac asks.

Combeferre reaches for his backpack to get his phone and turn it on. Seven text messages come through, six from Courfeyrac and one from Enjolras. Combeferre reads them.

 **Courfeyrac at 9:37 pm:** _hey wyd? wanna hang out?_

 **Courfeyrac at 9:55 pm:** _i’m going out for drinks with some friends, wanna join us?_

 **Courfeyrac at 12:49 am:** _im bein drunk undr the table_

 **Courfeyrac at 1:03 am:** _u should b here, i think theyd like u & ud lik em too_

 **Courfeyrac at 1:14 am:** _ur probbly busy or with some1 im sorry to distrb_

 **Courfeyrac at 1:45 am:** _enjloras says ur in the libray why are u in studyin thats unhelathy_

 **Enjolras at 1:43 am:** _Are you still in the library? Courfeyrac is trying to reach you._

When did they even swap phone numbers?, he wonders. Combeferre looks at Courfeyrac and notices he has been supporting his weight on the table and looking at him, waiting for him to finish reading his texts.

Courfeyrac signs «I need» and then something else Combeferre doesn’t catch. His signing is slower, but less precise now.

«What?» Combeferre asks.

Courfeyrac fishes his own phone from his jeans pocket with difficulty and sends Combeferre a text.

 **Courfeyrac at 2:08 am:** _i need fries rn u need t stop studyin_

 **Combeferre at 2:09 am:** _That’s a great idea, haha. Sorry, my phone has been off and I didn’t see your texts before._

Courfeyrac smiles at him triumphantly as Combeferre starts packing his things to leave. When he stands up and starts walking, Courfeyrac holds on to his arm to support himself. Now that’s new, Combeferre thinks. He feels the strain in his muscles from being still for too long and Courfeyrac moves in slurry, heavy motions, so they walk side by side around the library a little slowly.

«Where are we going?» Combeferre signs, turning towards Courfeyrac a bit.

«F-R-I-E-S», Courfeyrac signs, and then shrugs.

Sure. Combeferre thinks where the closest place they can get fries at this hour is and remembers a pub across from campus. The walk would only take 15 minutes, but it’s too cold, so Combeferre calls a taxi. They sit on a bench to wait, and it arrives shortly. Courfeyrac seems slightly sleepy now, and he sort of cuddles Combeferre in the backseat, sitting too close, lying his head on Combeferre’s shoulder and generally draping his body over him. Combeferre does something between pretending it’s not happening and taking comfort in it.

Thankfully, the pub is not too crowded; they find an empty booth in the corner. Combeferre sits first and Courfeyrac follows. He sits close to him again, even with a lot of extra space available to him, though they are not quite touching anymore. Combeferre is glad about that, because otherwise he would be too hyper-aware to even eat.

When a blue-haired waiter comes to take their order, Combeferre asks for fries, a beer for him, and a Coke for Courfeyrac, who tries to sign something in protest. Combeferre argues that he should get some sugar and caffeine in his body, to which Courfeyrac just sighs and crosses his arms, defeated.

A few minutes pass and Courf lies his head on the table, using his arms as a pillow. Combeferre gazes at him freely now that he has his eyes closed. He’s faintly flushed because of the alcohol and his hair is a bit messy; Combeferre’s hand itches to touch his face and run his fingers through his curls, so he pointedly moves both hands to his lap.

More and more, Combeferre notices how they usually don’t try to fill up the time they have together with conversation. He knows most of it is due their communication barriers. It’s too troublesome to write back and forth, too weird to text each other when you’re sitting side by side, and too difficult to hold an entire conversation in sign language with Combeferre’s level of knowledge. But he feels that part of it is because they can just be around each other and stay comfortable like that.

He realizes now it’s the first time they’ve been together outside the library. The thought makes him feel giddy. He knows that by no means is this a date. Still, Courfeyrac had been with his own friends; he could have just gotten fries with them. At the very least, the fact that he’s here right now with Combeferre means he cares about him as a friend, and not just as some study buddy.

Combeferre shakes Courfeyrac’s shoulder lightly to let him know that their drinks and food have arrived. Courfeyrac’s face brightens like the sun when he sees the plate in front him, reaching immediately to grab a handful of fries. Combeferre gets a couple to himself. Just as he’s biting on them, he hears Courfeyrac hum contently and he freezes. Courfeyrac isn’t even aware that he makes those noises and he has no idea of the effect they produce on Combeferre – it’s all so unfair. Combeferre breathes deeply and starts munching slowly. The fries really are very good, infinitely better than the boring food he had eaten all day in quick breaks from studying.

They drink and eat contently. At some point, Courfeyrac turns to him. He looks more awake now, and quite pleased.

«Thanks for coming» he signs, smiling at Combeferre.

«Thanks for saving me» Combeferre signs back, laughing.

Courfeyrac bumps their shoulders together, swaying a little. He ends up supporting his upper body on Combeferre again. This time, Combeferre gives up on being bothered.

Later, Combeferre calls a cab for Courfeyrac and one for himself.

Enjolras is already asleep when he gets home. He lies down in bed exhausted and smiling from ear to ear, falling asleep very quickly.

***

“So,” Enjolras says during breakfast. “Did Courfeyrac find you yesterday?”

Combeferre nods, swallowing his food. “He wanted to eat fries.”

“He texted me after midnight because he wanted to eat fries with you?”

“So it seems,” Combeferre shrugs. “Why do you even have each other’s phone numbers?”

“Are you jealous?” Enjolras raises an eyebrow.

“Of course not. It’s just that you only met a few days ago.”

“So you _are_ jealous,” Enjolras smirks at the him over the rim of his mug. Something flashes through his face and he puts the coffee down. “You are _in love_ with him.” It’s not a question.

Combeferre chokes on muesli and coughs until his eyes water. Enjolras brings him a cup of water, and Combeferre takes a sip. He waits until his breathing is even again.

He thinks of what to say next, because he’s tired of ignoring his feelings, and lying to Enjolras will do him no good. It’s incredible how Enjolras can be oblivious to his own feelings, and still know so much about his best friend. As if he’s reading Combeferre’s mind, Enjolras says, “‘Ferre, I know I’m not the most observant person in the world, but even I can tell there’s something going on between you two.”

Combeferre sags his shoulders, yielding.

“There isn’t anything going on, though.”

“Really? Because I talked to him and it seems that he likes you, too.”

Combeferre gapes at Enjolras.

“As someone with very little experience with feelings and relationships, I think you should ask him out.”

“That didn’t sound as encouraging as you probably intended.”

“Look, this conversation is making me tired and confused because you are the wise one and I’m terrible at giving advice. I know I’ve just met Courfeyrac, but I think he might be very good for you.”

Truthfully, everything about this conversation was strange and Combeferre is eager to end it.

“Okay. Thank you,” he says, and Enjolras smiles at him. Trying to change the subject, he says, “Hey, did Jehan tell you they met the artist to help us with the zine?”

***

Later that day, Combeferre is just finishing his paper – at home, for a change – when his phone buzzes on the desk. His heart does a somersault even before he checks the screen.

 **Courfeyrac at 4:23 pm:** _hey ferre, thanks for yesterday. sorry if i did anything to make you uncomfortable_

 **Combeferre at 4:25 am:** _You’re welcome! You didn’t do anything wrong. I had a very good time, actually. It was nice to see you outside the library._

 **Courfeyrac at 4:25 pm:** _:)_

 **Courfeyrac at 4:27 pm:** _i’m glad. in fact, i was wondering if you might want hang out today, if you’re not busy?_

At this point, Combeferre forgets all his medical knowledge. If forced to state his symptoms, he’d only say that his insides feel all funny. He tries to type something more subdued than his actual feelings, because his feelings are too wild for his liking.

 **Combeferre at 4:29 am:** _Sure, I’d like that! Did you have something in mind?_

 **Courfeyrac at 4:30 pm:** _i’m honestly still tired because of yesterday lmao. i thought something more chill… you could come over and we could watch a movie?_

 **Combeferre at 4:31 am:** _Excellent. What time should I be there?_

They decide to meet at Courfeyrac’s place at 7pm, to watch a movie that Courfeyrac wants to show Combeferre, and then Disney movies – after a fervent discussion about their favorite ones. At his insistence, Combeferre is bringing food and drinks. Courfeyrac sends him his address and they say goodbye, leaving Combeferre an hour to get ready and worry about it.

***

At 7:01 pm, Combeferre arrives at Courfeyrac’s apartment. He had to endure Enjolras prying and, fair enough, helping him to pick an outfit, and then he ran half the way there, because the wait at the takeout place was longer than he expected. He rings the doorbell. It doesn’t make a sound, so he tries again a few times. Nothing. It might not be working, he thinks, and raises his hand to knock on the door. That’s when it opens, to reveal a breathless Courfeyrac.

He looks _dazzling_ , Combeferre decides, resenting Courfeyrac just a little bit for making him think of such frivolous words. He’s wearing something much more simple than he usually does, just a bright blue v-neck sweater and dark jeans, but he’s also barefoot and his hair is wet, so it’s a lot to take in. Plus, he’s smiling brightly and Combeferre wants to just hold his face in his hands and press his thumbs to his dimples and kiss that smile and… okay, that’s enough.

Courfeyrac is signing something, so he has to pay attention.

«It’s a light» Courfeyrac is signing, and Combeferre doesn’t understand what he means. He just frowns and shakes his head.

Courfeyrac grabs his hand and pulls him inside the apartment. He points at a lamp in the middle of the living room and stretches his other arm to the doorbell. When he presses the button, the lamp lights on, red.

Oh.

The doorbell is a light. Obviously. Combeferre shakes his head at himself. He pressed it so many times, the apartment must have lit up like there was an ambulance inside.

«Sorry», he signs sheepishly.

«All hearing people do it», Courfeyrac shrugs, amused, though Combeferre still feels incredibly thick. «Hello», Courfeyrac signs, smiling.

«Hello», Combeferre signs back, feeling his face warm. He extends his arm, showing the bag he’s holding containing sushi and beer.

«Nice, thanks!» Courfeyrac signs. «Wanna eat now?»

Combeferre nods. They sit at a tiny dinner table and take the food out of the bag. As they start eating, Combeferre reconsiders his choice. He’s not very good with the chopsticks and at his second attempt to put a roll in his mouth, he drops soy sauce on his white shirt.

“Shit,” he mutters, looking down at himself.

Courfeyrac snickers, but then he signs «Wanna borrow a shirt?»

«No, it’s not a problem» Combeferre reassures him. It really isn’t. Plus, he still remembers the scarf. He’s quite sure that if Courfeyrac keeps borrowing him clothes, he’ll end up wanting to keep them all. Courfeyrac shrugs, letting it slide.

Contrary to Combeferre, Courfeyrac is very well-coordinated and can handle his chopsticks just fine. He seems happy as he eats sushi, especially the pieces with cream cheese, because he munches them slowly and closes his eyes, as if to concentrate on the taste. Combeferre is constantly amazed by how expressive Courfeyrac’s face is. He wonders to what extent it’s because he uses primarily sign language to communicate, and how much of it it’s just about him being generally frank.

«What?» Courfeyrac signs, looking at him curiously, and Combeferre realizes he has been staring. Combeferre shrugs lamely and occupies his mouth with a piece of sushi.

«Wait» Courfeyrac stands up and walks to a corridor. Combeferre uses his moment alone to inspect around the room. It looks bright, comfortable, somewhat extravagant and well lived-in, which is exactly what you would expect from Courfeyrac’s place.

Courfeyrac comes back with small white board under his arm and two markers in his other hand. He shows the objects to Combeferre like he’s presenting him the solution to all the problems in the world. It’s a good solution for them, for now. He sits down and writes something.

**We’ll start with La famille Bélier, then we can pick between Peter Pan (great) and The Lion King (not-so-great)**

Combeferre reads it and laughs, taking the board and the other marker.

_As I’ve said, The Lion King is the greatest Disney movie because it’s Hamlet, but with lions._

«W-H-A-T-E-V-E-R», Courfeyrac signs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. Combeferre laughs and sips his beer. Apparently they will never agree on this matter.

They finish their food and clean everything up, then they move to the sofa, carrying their bottles with them. Courfeyrac had already set everything before Combeferre arrived, so he sits down and looks intently at the space beside him. Combeferre sits gingerly, not too close but not too far from his friend.

Courfeyrac turns the light off with the switch close to his head and uses the remote control to play the movie on the big flat screen in front of them.

A few minutes in, Combeferre understands why Courfeyrac wanted him to watch the movie. It’s a french romantic comedy about a hearing girl born in a Deaf family. Aside from the overused coming-of-age with blossoming romance plot, the movie has some very powerful scenes. They watch it with captions, but Courfeyrac leaves the audio on. There is a scene in which the Deaf family goes to the girl’s choir presentation and the scene goes completely silent at the most expected moment, so the hearing viewer is in the position of her relatives. The experience of not hearing astounds Combeferre.

When that happens, he feels Courfeyrac looking at him, and he returns the look with a small smile. Courfeyrac moves closer to him on the sofa, and he feels like he has passed a test.

At the end of the movie, the girl [sings a song about leaving home while she signs the lyrics to her family](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2ky4ap). Combeferre weeps and he’s not even ashamed of it, especially because Courfeyrac puts his arm around Combeferre’s shoulders, and because he’s crying too.

As the credits roll, Courfeyrac sighs and grazes his fingers on Combeferre’s arm, over his shirt. Eventually, they move apart and Combeferre wipes the tears off of his face and cleans his fogged-up glasses.

«Good?» Courfeyrac signs, turning to him and grinning wide.

«Beautiful», Combeferre answers, purposefully meeting Courfeyrac’s eyes.

That’s when the light flashes red above them, and Combeferre hears a key fitting in the lock in the front door. Courfeyrac seems disappointed when he signs «M-A-R-I-U-S».

Marius comes in and switches the lights on.

“Oh, hi!” He says and signs at the same time. So Marius, Courfeyrac’s-infamous roommate-slash-linguistic-genius, is the tall brunette Combeferre has seen so many times. It all makes sense, and it reassures him greatly.

They stand up to greet him.

«This is C-O-M-B-E-F-E-R-R-E», Courfeyrac signs to Marius, looking at him intently.

“Oh. Hi, Combeferre. I’m Marius.” He extends a hand and Combeferre shakes it.

“Are you watching a movie?” Marius asks, signing. Courfeyrac signs back, much faster than he does with Combeferre, so he doesn’t catch everything.

“Ah, I love that one. Cried like a baby,” Marius smiles. “Are you going to watch something else?”

Combeferre glances at Courfeyrac quickly before answering, “We’re still deciding between Peter Pan and The Lion King.”

“Oh, I love The Lion King! Can I join you? I don’t wanna impose, of course.”

Not even under torture would Combeferre confess this, but he feels awfully jealous of Marius’s ability to speak and sign at the same time, and he definitely doesn’t want him to join them.

Still, he is a better person than that, so he looks at both of them and signs «Yes», shrugging.

The three of them watch The Lion King with subtitles. They have to squeeze to fit on the sofa, so Courfeyrac ends up sandwiched between Marius and Combeferre. Eventually, Combeferre falls asleep.

He wakes up an indefinite amount of time later, when he hears a click. He doesn’t jump at the sound, but it’s enough to make him crack his eyes open. There is cellphone in front of his face, and on the screen he sees himself sleeping with his head on Courfeyrac’s shoulder, mouth a little bit open and glasses askew, while Courfeyrac smiles serenely with his eyes closed. He sees Courfeyrac tap on the screen and type **Netflix & zZzZz**.

Combeferre shuts his eyes again, smiling to himself. He even considers sleeping more, not caring much about the pain he’ll feel in his neck later. But Courfeyrac touches his wrist and shakes gently, so Combeferre makes a case of pretending to wake up.

«Sorry» Combeferre signs. He looks around and Marius isn’t there, thankfully.

«No problem!» Courfeyrac beams at him.

Before he does something irresponsible, Combeferre stands up and stretches. «I need to go home.»

Hesitating, Courfeyrac stands up too, nodding. They walk to the door, and Courfeyrac opens it for him.

«Thanks», Combeferre signs.

Grinning, Courfeyrac gets closer and stands on his tiptoes to kiss Combeferre’s cheek. «See you!», he signs as Combeferre stands frozen on his doormat.

“Bye,” Combeferre says aloud, forgetting how his hands work, then he rushes to the elevator.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've added the tag "Fluff and Angst", so here it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to update this sooner, but it turns out being on vacations unfortunately does not mean writing 24/7, after all.

The day after movie night is a Sunday. Combeferre wakes up at eight and decides to study at home again. He organizes a schedule for the following week - the last one of the term, finally - and starts studying for a test he has on Tuesday. Even being a very self-controlled and disciplined person, Combeferre finds it hard to concentrate on making notes. The reason is that he can’t stop thinking about the facts of the previous day.

He is pretty sure, after it all happened, that it had been a date. They had been alone (for some time, at least), and had eaten and watched movies together, cuddling on the sofa. And there was, of course, the time when it felt like something was going to happen, before Marius came in. Still, with all that evidence, Combeferre couldn’t shake off his cautious nature when the opportunity arrived, at the end of the night. Did he really just run?

Combeferre sighs. He looks at his phone, purposefully left on, and thinks about the look on Courfeyrac’s face after he kissed Combeferre’s cheek. He had looked hopeful and eager, as if daring Combeferre to do something. Combeferre feels like a coward, for not having done anything then, and not doing anything now but stare at his phone. He hates the feeling, so he decides to do something about it.

 **Combeferre at 9:14 am:** _Good morning! Are you busy today? I think I’m heading to the library, wanna join me?_

He sends the message and wonders if he should have started differently, by making some comment about yesterday. Too late now, he thinks. He stares at the phone some more, until it chimes in with a new message.

 **Courfeyrac at 9:15 am:** _hey! i’m already here, actually. i was hoping you’d come ;)_

Knowing Courfeyrac as much as he already does, he hardly thinks the innuendo is accidental. He laughs nervously, biting his lip.

 **Combeferre at 9:15 am:** _I’ll be there in a few._

Combeferre rushes to go, making sure he looks nice. Enjolras gives him a knowing close-mouthed smile as he announces he’s on his way out. As he grabs his coat, he decides to add the scarf Courfeyrac had given him.

On his walk to the library, he thinks about this is the third day in a row that they’ve seen each other, not hiding their wish to do so, and how everything seems different now. He smiles to himself, even though the wind is biting his face.

He sees Courfeyrac from a good distance, even with the library more full than usual for a Sunday. As he approaches, Courfeyrac gives him a wide, genuine, dimpled, beautiful smile. He smiles back and adjusts his glasses. When he reaches the table, instead of sitting down, Combeferre stops close to Courfeyrac. «Hey», he signs, and on a whim, bends forward to kiss Courfeyrac’s forehead. Courfeyrac stares at him wide-eyed, blushing in his splotchy way, and Combeferre sits down before his knees give in.

Combeferre prepares his stuff on the table, pretending he’s not being stared at, until Courfeyrac gives up and resumes his work. They share some furtive glances from time to time, but they get work done. At some point, Courfeyrac touches him - a soft press of fingers to the back of Combeferre’s hand.

«Lunch?» Courfeyrac signs when Combeferre looks up. Combeferre glances at his watch, surprised to find out that it’s already 2:33pm.

«Let’s go», Combeferre agrees.

This, too, is new: eating together at the café. Combeferre thought about it a thousand times on his coffee runs, and he feels giddy now it’s happening. They sit and order their food. As they wait, Combeferre notices Courfeyrac’s hand casually laying on the table. He casually leaves his own hand an inch away. Courfeyrac casually holds it, until they casually have to free their hands to eat. There is soup, _croque monsieurs_ , _fondant au chocolat_ and then coffee.

«That was so good», Courfeyrac signs after they finish.

«Yes», Combeferre agrees, smiling. He feels content, full and warm, and he just wants to take a nap curled around Courfeyrac. Preferably until the year ends.

Instead, they go back to the library. At least they hold hands as they walk.

They study until it gets dark and Courfeyrac tells him he’s tired and wants to leave. Combeferre, having finished the work planned for the day, accompanies him.

Just after they pass through the library door, Courfeyrac grabs Combeferre by the elbow to get his attention and asks to which direction Combeferre is going, which makes him realize he never told Courfeyrac where he lives.

«Can I walk you home?» Courfeyrac signs, and Combeferre nods, offering his hand to hold.

The entire way, Combeferre’s mind is too full. He’s thinking that, finally, he can hope that Courf is somehow attracted to him, and that what they have isn’t entirely platonic. But what if Courfeyrac doesn’t want him in the same way? What if they have no chemistry? His head fills with what ifs, to the point where he worries whether Courfeyrac can feel his hand sweating against his. Thankfully, by then, they are in front of his building.

«We’ve arrived», Combeferre signs when he stops walking.

Courfeyrac bites his lip, inspecting the building, then glances back at him. «Is Enjolras home?»

«I think so». Combeferre shrugs helplessly.

Courfeyrac nods, looking down, and steps closer. Combeferre doesn’t move.

«I’m glad I gave it to you», Courfeyrac signs, motioning towards the scarf.

Combeferre looks down at it. «I like it», he signs back, not sure where this is going.

Courfeyrac gives one more step in his direction, and takes hold of the scarf. Combeferre stops breathing.

«Can I kiss you?» Courfeyrac signs.

Combeferre answers by holding Courfeyrac’s chin and tilting it up, lowering his own head slightly. Courfeyrac closes the distance between their mouths with a little pull of the scarf. Combeferre exhales as their parted lips meet, immediately closing his arms around Courfeyrac. Despite how long they have spent dancing around each other, there is no hesitance in the way Courfeyrac licks Combeferre’s lip to demand him to open up for him. Combeferre kisses him enthusiastically, marvelling in the softness of his lips and the warmth he sheds even with the cold around them.

When they part, Combeferre sees Courfeyrac with closed eyes for a split second before he opens them slowly and gazes at Combeferre. His mouth, now much redder than usual, curves in a pleased, genuine smile. Combeferre finally, finally touches his blotchy-red cheek, pressing his thumb lightly inside one dimple. Courfeyrac giggles softly.

 _God, I love you_ , Combeferre thinks, hoping it doesn’t show in his face, in case it’s too soon. He doesn’t know what Courfeyrac sees, but it’s something that makes Courfeyrac kiss him again.

«I should go», Courfeyrac signs minutes later. It saddens Combeferre to think about it, but it’s too cold for them to just stand in the middle of the street anyway. He nods and grabs Courfeyrac’s hands in his, squeezing them as he gives him one last peck on the lips. Regretfully, he lets go of Courfeyrac and walks to the door. Courfeyrac stands looking at him. He waves and then turns away, walking down the street with his hands shoved in his pockets.

***

Instead of going on dates, Combeferre and Courfeyrac spend the next days studying, writing papers and preparing presentations together in the library, a couple of times joined by Enjolras. Now, though, it’s slightly different than before, because Courfeyrac spends as much time there as Combeferre does. And there is kissing. The kissing part happens mostly when they leave together, but one time Courfeyrac just snaps and drags Combeferre to a secluded place to make out. (Combeferre doesn’t complain at all.) As the days go by, they become more exhausted, sleep-deprived and stressed, while, on the other hand, every time they kiss, it gets more difficult to stick to just kissing. (Combeferre fantasizes about re-enacting the blowjob against the stacks with Courfeyrac with alarming frequency.)

Finally, the week ends. By friday morning, Courfeyrac delivers his last paper and Combeferre writes his last final. All Combeferre wants to do, then, is to sleep for at least twelve hours. He considers asking Courfeyrac to join him, but in the end he decides it’s better not to, because they might get distracted if they share a bed and they both truly deserve to rest.

Combeferre gets home, eats lunch, takes a shower, and sleeps until 6pm, disappointed about not being able to hibernate as he wished to. Now that he has no urgent matter to think about, he locks the door to his room and allows himself to lie in his bed and think about Courfeyrac. His cock hardens as he thinks about the scent of Courfeyrac’s skin, the way he bites down Combeferre’s lower lip when they’re kissing, the feeling of running his fingers through his hair, the way he smiles after a kiss, bright and unabashed. He touches himself with his head filled with images, sounds, sensations, a mix of memory and imagined things. He quickly reaches his orgasm with Courfeyrac’s name on his lips and an overwhelming desire to make it all true.

He cleans himself up and falls asleep again. Later, wakes up to his text alarm.

 **Courfeyrac at 7:15 pm:** _hey bb! did you get some sleep?_

Combeferre smiles at the pet name.

 **Courfeyrac at 7:15 pm:** _i’m gonna meet the guys later to celebrate the end of term, you should come and bring enj so everyone can be friends already_

 **Combeferre at 7:16 pm:** _Hello! :-) Yes, I feel like a human being again, how about you?_

 **Combeferre at 7:16 pm:** _I would love to go._

“Enjolras?” Combeferre calls out. Getting no answer, he texts him.

 **Combeferre at 7:17 pm:** _Where are you? Are you busy tonight? Courf invited us to meet his friends._

 **Enjolras at 7:18 pm:** _I’m at the law firm, they called me in for a favor. Sounds nice, tell him I’ll go._

 **Combeferre at 7:19 pm:** _Ok._

He gets back to Courfeyrac’s conversation.

 **Courfeyrac at 7:17 pm:** _i accidentally started watching a new a tv show, so i haven’t slept a single minute_

Combeferre frowns, remembering how weary Courfeyrac has looked the entire week.

 **Combeferre at 7:20 pm:** _You should rest, Courf._

 **Courfeyrac at 7:21 pm:** _i know!!! i’ll try to sleep well tonight. maybe you should come over to make sure i do_

 **Courfeyrac at 7:21 pm:** _i mean, i’m not necessarily talking about sex, we could just cuddle, but yknow, i’m down for all of it if you are too_

Combeferre grins.

 **Combeferre at 7:22 pm:** _Yeah, I could make the effort._

Before he forgets what he was going to say, he goes back to the previous subject.

 **Combeferre at 7:22 pm:** _So, Enjolras said he’ll come. Can I invite someone else? I think you’ll really like Jehan._

 **Courfeyrac at 7:23 pm:** _absolutely! bring all the people you want. we’ll be @ corinthe at 9_

***

Around nine, Combeferre arrives with Jehan, because Enjolras had texted him saying he would be late because of a mishap. They walk into the café and Combeferre spots Courfeyrac easily, making a beeline to him. He’s standing close to the bar with Marius and two other people.

Courfeyrac sees Combeferre and hugs him. «You’re here!» he signs excitedly. Combeferre smiles. He really wants to kiss him, but he isn’t sure it’s something he’s allowed to do now, in front of their friends.

Then Courfeyrac looks past Combeferre, smiling expectantly. “Oh. That’s Jehan,” Combeferre says, signing «J-E-H-A-N». “Jehan, this is Courf.” They shake hands amicably, sharing an appraising look. Courfeyrac pulls them by the hand to meet the rest of the people. He points at them and gives each a sign, then they introduce themselves by saying their names and offering hands to shake. Joly is the delicate-looking one supporting himself with a cane, and his sign is a J in front of the mouth, imitating the curve of a smile. The bald one is Bossuet, his sign a B sliding from the forehead to the back. Marius’s sign is an M to the neck, probably alluding his prominent Adam’s apple. When Courfeyrac has to introduce Combeferre, though, he spells his name, doing the same with Jehan’s.

Everyone gets drinks, and then they go find a table. Combeferre sits with Courfeyrac on one side and Jehan on the other. Courfeyrac holds his hand under the table, but then he needs it to sign, so he moves Combeferre’s hand to his thigh and Combeferre gladly leaves it there.

Combeferre learns, as they tell him both in french and in LSF, that Bossuet is hard of hearing and Courfeyrac has known him since they were small school children; Joly is Bossuet’s boyfriend and flatmate, and he goes to med school, but at another university. After a while, they fall into separate conversations. Combeferre talks a lot to Joly, who tells him he wanted to go to med school because he lost his leg in an accident and a doctor saved his life - they get on well, and the subject shifts so much that, at some point, they end up discussing insects. Jehan and Marius start with shy and awkward small talk, though later on Combeferre notices they’re talking animatedly in a foreign language. Courfeyrac seems deeply enthralled by Bossuet, nodding and laughing a lot a story he tells him in LSF.

Two more people arrive, already with drinks in hand, and Courfeyrac introduces them. The guy is the infamous R, and Combeferre is glad to finally put a face to the name. His sign is the index and middle fingers crossed in an R touching the crooked bridge of his nose. The girl is Éponine. Her sign is a P touching simultaneously her pierced nose and eyebrow, and she looks beautiful and intimidating, but seems jittery when she greets Marius. Jehan and Marius include them easily in their conversation, which makes Combeferre remember that Jehan already knows R.

When Enjolras gets there, Combeferre sees him as soon as he passes the door, but almost doesn’t recognize him because his hair is gone. For years, Enjolras has had long curly blond hair, tied in a low ponytail or up in a messy bun most of the time, but now it’s gone. His hair is trimmed short on the sides and curly on the top, with some of it falling on his forehead.

“Your hair!” Jehan whimpers as soon as Enjolras gets close to them. Jehan actually stands up to touch Enjolras’ hair. “What happened?”

Enjolras scrunches his nose, touching the back of his head self-consciously. “Does it look bad?”

“No, but now I can’t braid it anymore!” Jehan says in a truly hurt voice.

Combeferre laughs at their interaction and clears his throat. “Hi, Enjolras.”

As if remembering he just got to a gathering of people, Enjolras turns to them, apologizes and greets everyone courteously, getting introduced to them by Combeferre. When he sees Grantaire, however, he freezes.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras frowns.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire smirks.

“Do you know each other?” Joly asks cheerfully.

“We keep meeting,” they say in unison, though Enjolras snarls while Grantaire says it playfully.

Combeferre stares at them wide-eyed, realizing something about R. He is the guy in Enjolras’s Philosophy lecture. He fits the physical description Enjolras gave him and, on top of all that, there are the drawings in Courfeyrac’s notebook, which resemble Enjolras.

“Well, that’s great! We have a lot to discuss about the zine. Take a seat, Enjolras,” Combeferre says, shooting his best friend a pleading look. Thankfully, Enjolras complies, albeit stiffly.

“So, Combeferre told us you’re a Political Science major, Enjolras,” Bossuet says pleasantly.

“Yes, with a Law and Society minor,” Enjolras states. That starts a conversation about Enjolras’s internship at a law firm, which eventually explains Enjolras’ new hair: someone brought their kid to work and called asking for Enjolras to babysit - because interns are there to do just about anything, right? Though the kid, who hadn’t liked Enjolras one bit, stuck gum in his hair. He needed to get an emergency haircut at a Saturday night, which is why he had been late.

After a while, most of them are immersed in an agitated political conversation. It gets slightly chaotic and sometimes they speak over each other, but Joly and Marius act as interpreters to make everyone understand what is being said or signed.

Courfeyrac makes a proper speech, interpreted by Marius, about how much he hates being seen as a disabled person, which is why he never wanted to make the implant that could “fix” him. Then he goes off on queer rights and pretty much everyone has something to say. Bossuet talks about how most people dismiss his struggle of being hard of hearing because he uses hearing aids and he can speak “well for a deaf person”. Joly complains about people pitying him for being handicapped and thinking he can’t do anything by himself. Jehan tells them some microaggressions they live through because of their gender identity. Combeferre offers some remarks on institutionalized racism, with which Éponine agrees fervently, going on her own rant about living as a woman of color. Marius is too busy translating everything back and forth to share anything. Grantaire just pays attention and nods to what is being said.

Enjolras watches it all fascinated. Combeferre is sure he’s cataloguing every single word somewhere in his brain. The whole thing makes Enjolras incredibly fired up. “It makes me so outraged that we’re in the 21st Century and there is still so much inequality in the world. There is so much to change! That’s why we can’t just stand back - we need to fight to build a society worth living in.”

He would probably go on for several minutes, if not for Grantaire’s loud snort.

“What?” Enjolras snaps.

Grantaire shrugs. “Sorry. I just don’t think you can make that much change. You can fight your whole life for it, but in the end you’re just a privileged boy with a pretty face who’s trying to speak for truly oppressed people.”

Wide-eyed, Enjolras snarls in a low, dangerous voice, “You know nothing about me, Grantaire.” Combeferre winces.

“I know you’re a white, able-bodied dude from a rich family, which is a lot more than you can say about anyone on this table,” he motions around them.

Enjolras looks like he has been slapped. He stares furiously at Grantaire for a few seconds, and then he looks at Courfeyrac. “Sorry Courf, I’m not here to endure this kind of bullshit,” he says. They all watch in a stupor as he bolts to the door and leaves. Combeferre sits there for a few seconds, processing what happened. He realizes Enjolras must be furious and deeply hurt. He can’t be alone now.

“I should to go after him,” Combeferre says and signs, looking at Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac nods. Combeferre runs after his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me for the last scene.
> 
> I'm not sure exactly when I'll update next, because I'm working on a Christmas fic. (It's Combeferre/Courfeyrac and Enjolras/Grantaire, probably with porn for both pairings, and it will be up anytime before Friday. Stay tuned.) Though I want to finish it before the year ends.
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long again! I planned to finish this before the year ended, but life got in the day. You should all thank my beta for pushing me to write and for advising me to split the last chapter in two.

Before leaving the Corinthe, Combeferre grabs his own coat and the one Enjolras had left behind in his rush to go away. Stepping out of the door, Combeferre looks up and down the street in an attempt to find Enjolras. Much to his relief, he sees his friend standing a few meters away from the bar, arms wrapped around his lean frame to protect himself from the cold.

“Enjolras!” Combeferre calls before running to him.

Enjolras merely acknowledges him, glancing in his direction quickly and then turning his eyes to the asphalt. When Combeferre gets close to him, he notices Enjolras’s shaking sobs, tears running freely down his face. He doesn’t bother asking if Enjolras is okay, because he obviously isn’t.

Instead he offers him the coat, which Enjolras dresses reluctantly. Then Combeferre stands with his arms open and waits until Enjolras falls into his embrace, his wet face getting immediately buried in Combeferre’s coat. “I’m so sorry,” Combeferre says, softly, rubbing Enjolras’s back. “Let’s just go home, ” he suggests, and feels Enjolras nod.

They get a taxi. Combeferre hugs Enjolras in the backseat to warm him up. Around the middle of the ride, Enjolras stops crying.

**Jehan at 10:47 pm:** _Did you find him? Is he ok?_

 **Combeferre at 10:48 pm:** _Yeah, I’m with him. He’s shaken up, but we’re on our way home._

**Jehan at 10:49 pm:** _ That’s a relief! I’ll call him tomorrow. _

When they arrive at their flat, Enjolras throws himself face-down onto the sofa. Combeferre follows, sitting next to him on the floor.

“Do you wanna talk?” Combeferre asks.

“Not now,” Enjolras mutters.

“Okay. I’m gonna make tea.”

He gets the tea ready as fast as he can. When he comes back to the living room, Enjolras is in the same position he left him in.

“Are you awake?” Combeferre whispers. Enjolras doesn’t respond.

Combeferre puts the mugs down and goes to Enjolras’s room to find his blanket. Combeferre covers his friend, resolved to let him rest. He gets his tea and goes to his own room, knowing Enjolras will come to talk when he is ready.

***

Combeferre wakes up to find he’s not alone in bed. At some point during the night, Enjolras had joined him. He’s now curled on himself on the other side of the bed and, at least in his sleep, he seems peaceful. Not willing to get up now, Combeferre goes back to sleep.

The second time he wakes up, it’s because he gets a text.

**Courfeyrac at 9:03 am:** _ hey, ferre……. i’m so ashamed about what happened yesterday. i would never want to put enjolras in a situation like that. how is he? i texted him but he didn’t answer _

**Courfeyrac at 9:05 am:** _ is he angry with me? do you think i could apologize to him in person? _

**Combeferre at 9:07 am:** _ Good morning, Courf! He hasn’t talked to me yet, but I don’t think he’s mad at you. He should know you’re not responsible for what Grantaire said. I think it would be good if you came over. He’s still asleep, though. I can answer as soon as he wakes up. Is that good? _

**Courfeyrac at 9:08 am:** _ yeah, sure!! _

Combeferre leaves the bed and starts preparing breakfast. A few minutes later, Enjolras appears in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling?” Combeferre asks in lieu of hello.

Enjolras grunts. “I feel like I need coffee.”

Combeferre sighs. He finishes making coffee and pours some for Enjolras, then he goes back to making omelettes.

“You know I won’t pressure you into talking, but I think it would be good for you.”

“Okay. Just… after we eat, okay?”

“Sure.”

They eat their breakfast in silence, standing in the kitchen. When he sees Enjolras finishing his meal, Combeferre tries again.

“Courfeyrac texted me. He’s worried about you, and he thinks you’re mad at him.”

“I’m not. It’s not his fault that Grantaire was an asshole to me. Plus, everyone there seemed very nice. I had a good time until that happened.”

Combeferre nods. Then he wonders, “Was he always like that, in your classes?”

“No...” Enjolras shakes his head, frowning. “We’d always end up arguing, but the focus of his criticism was always on my ideas. Never on me.” Enjolras sighs. “The weird thing is, I’m glad that, at least, he didn’t misgender me? A few years ago, I could never guess someone would miss the fact that I’m trans because I never thought I’d pass.” As he finishes the last word, his voice cracks.

Enjolras suddenly looks so fragile that Combeferre reaches out to touch his shoulder, trying to comfort him. Enjolras leans into it, so Combeferre half-hugs him.

“Still, he was cruel and you didn’t deserve it,” Combeferre says in the firmest tone he can muster. He suspects Enjolras has taken all this time to speak because, deep down, he believes that some part of what Grantaire might be true. Combeferre just won’t have that. 

“Yeah... It’s not like I don’t recognize my privileges. I know exactly who I am and what I’ve lived through. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t get to call me out like that in front of them.” Enjolras grinds his teeth. “But that made me think that maybe I should just… tell everyone.”

“Enjolras, you don’t have to come out to anyone if you don’t want to.”

“I know. But maybe I’ll be able to help more people if I can show them that there’s nothing to hide.”

“If you think that you’re ready, and that this will be good for you, then do it. You know you’ll always have my full support.”

Enjolras smiles at him. “Thanks, Ferre.”

“You’re welcome,” Combeferre says, pulling him in for a proper hug. When they part, he asks, “So, Courfeyrac wanted to see you so you two could talk. Is that something you want? Can I invite him over?”

“Yeah, sure! I’ll use the opportunity to ask him about his intentions.”

Combeferre adjusts his glasses. “What do you mean?”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you. I don’t know what happened before yesterday, but I know  _ something _ happened, because you two were being very affectionate.” Enjolras crinkles his nose slightly.

Combeferre laughs a little. “Well, something did happen. But I’m not sure what is happening. We still haven’t had the time to talk about it.”

“One more reason for me to ask,” Enjolras shrugs, smiling.

“Do not,” Combeferre pleads.

***

Courfeyrac comes over half an hour later. When Combeferre opens the door for him and sees his face, he’s hit with how badly he needs to kiss him again. Not being able to do it yesterday was enough torture.

«Good morning», Courfeyrac signs. Combeferre signs «hello» and, instead of stepping to the side so he can come in, he steps forward and closes the door behind him.

Courfeyrac raises his eyebrows in surprise; his expression smoothes out into a pleased smile when Combeferre wraps his arms around his waist. He holds Combeferre’s shoulders and kisses him, finally. Combeferre wants nothing but to kiss him for hours, but it ends too soon.

Resigned, he lets go of Courfeyrac and they come in. Enjolras gives them a pointed look before laughing it off and hugging Courfeyrac briefly.

“Do you want me to leave, so you two can talk?” Combeferre asks, making sure Courfeyrac can read his lips.

Courfeyrac turns to Enjolras, who tilts his head in consideration. “Yeah, that… could work. Thanks, Ferre.”

Combeferre nods and goes to his room. He lies in bed and checks his e-mails on his phone, then plays a game he hasn’t had time to play in a long time. In twenty minutes or so, Enjolras calls out for him to come back.

He’s surprised to notice that both of them look like they have been crying. He doesn’t ask why, though, because they are also smiling, so he assumes it’s all fine.

They think about what to do next, and Courfeyrac suggests they all go ice-skating. Enjolras argues that he’s terrible at any kind of skating, and Combeferre says he’s not that good either, but Courfeyrac ends up convincing them. Combeferre honestly thinks he could convince the two of them to do anything - he’s persuasive like that. It’s probably because of the dimples.

Enjolras truly is incredibly bad at skating. He falls on his ass at least ten times and Courfeyrac always helps him to get back on his feet, showing different levels of amusement. Combeferre stays close to the railings until Courfeyrac gives him his hand and he ventures closer to the middle of the rink. He only falls once, and he does it so spectacularly that the three of them laugh until they’re heaving. Courfeyrac, on the other hand, is very good at it. He skates gracefully and with skill, and at some point does an honest-to-god pirouette. (Combeferre pictures him in sequins and vouches he will never, ever tell anyone about it.)

Leaving the ice rink, the three of them go to a nice little bistró, close to Courfeyrac’s apartment, for lunch. They eat and then, all of a sudden, Enjolras claims he needs to go home and take some painkillers, because all his muscles are sore. It might be true, but Combeferre is convinced it’s a half-excuse so they can be alone. He gives his best friend a meaningful looks he hopes will be translated as ‘thanks’.

***

Combeferre and Courfeyrac walk hand in hand to Courfeyrac’s apartment. When they get there, they feel chilled from skating and from walking out in the cold. They take off their coats and Courfeyrac casually signs «Want to take a bath?», which Combeferre doesn’t understand at first, so he has to spell it. Combeferre’s eyebrows go up to his hairline, because he has thought about many scenarios which involved both of them naked, but that is a very good one he didn’t get to picture. He assents enthusiastically to the idea.

«Is Marius home?» Combeferre remembers to ask as they walk to the bathroom.

«He travelled this morning to visit his family.»

«Good», Combeferre signs, pulling him in for a kiss. Courfeyrac kisses him back with no inhibitions for the first time, and starts undressing Combeferre efficiently and tossing his clothes to the floor. Courfeyrac’s clothes join them shortly. For a long time, they’re too caught up with making out to remember to fill the bath, so when they do remember, they’re naked and cold and they have to keep close to each other as the water pours. (It’s not an issue, really.)

The bathtub is rectangular and not very big. Courfeyrac picks a bath bomb to throw in. It smells strongly of peppermint as it starts fizzing and coloring the water in blue, pink and yellow. Courfeyrac goes in first and then Combeferre sits across from him. They stay in a somewhat awkward position, with their legs tangled and too much space between them. Combeferre watches the glittery, colorful swirls in the water until he notices Courfeyrac is staring at him and smiling furtively.

«What?» Combeferre asks.

«Come here», Courfeyrac signs.

Combeferre reaches for Courfeyrac but their position makes it too difficult for them to touch properly. Courfeyrac stands up, splashing water around, and sits again, this time with his back to Combeferre. The space still isn’t big enough for both of them, but they manage. Courfeyrac grabs Combeferre’s hands and rests them on his own shoulders. Combeferre takes the hint.

As Combeferre smooths his hands down Courfeyrac’s arms, he thinks this is the most intimate thing he has ever done with anyone. He has had a few relationships in the past, he has shared a bath before, and he had done things infinitely dirtier than that, but nothing has ever felt what he feels in this simple, completely genuine moment.

He touches Courfeyrac’s skin reverently, elated to be able to see that much of it at last, aflame with the opportunity to touch Courfeyrac all over, to draw from him the delicious sounds Combeferre has been thinking about for so, so long. Combeferre takes his time to reach for Courfeyrac’s cock. When he does so, Courfeyrac gasps and throws his head back, leaning on Combeferre and exposing his throat to him. Combeferre gets a new chance to kiss the mole under his ear and he does just that; he strokes Courfeyrac’s cock while he kisses up and down his neck. Courfeyrac’s response is to lean back further, pressing his back to Combeferre’s chest and his ass to Combeferre’s erection, making Combeferre’s hips move forward involuntarily. Courfeyrac moans. That is the confirmation he needs to grab Courfeyrac by the waist and keep a tight, relentless grip on his cock.

When it’s too much to bear, Courfeyrac clasps Combeferre’s wrist to make him stop his hand. Combeferre lets go of him completely. Courfeyrac stands up, splashing more water around the bathroom, and desperately grabs towels for them. They try to dry themselves and run to Courfeyrac’s room at the same time.

When they reach his bed, Courfeyrac jumps into it and Combeferre follows, bracing himself over Courfeyrac and grabbing his dick again. Courfeyrac’s moans get increasingly louder and shakier, until he clutches hard on Combeferre’s shoulder and comes trembling with one final sob, spending himself over his stomach.

Courfeyrac reaches for his towel and cleans himself, throwing it away immediately. Then he closes his eyes in a bliss, still panting a little. Combeferre kisses his jaw a few times, waiting for him to open them again.

«Okay?» Combeferre signs. Courfeyrac nods, smiling lazily and reaching for Combeferre.

Courfeyrac shifts their positions and lies on top of Combeferre, kissing him wantonly. Combeferre is intoxicated with the feeling of him brushing his fingertips on Combeferre’s skin with a tenderness that his mouth doesn’t match. Combeferre’s dick is painfully hard and trapped under the weight and warmth of Courfeyrac’s body, but he needs more friction, so he grinds up against his hip. Getting the memo, Courfeyrac detaches their mouths and shifts his lips to Combeferre’s collarbone, sucking there, then lowers his mouth to Combeferre’s nipple and licks it tentatively. Combeferre runs his fingers through his hair in encouragement and Courfeyrac bites down hard. Combeferre hisses, hips jerking up. Getting the reaction he wanted, Courfeyrac does the same to the other nipple. Combeferre’s grip on his hair hardens without him meaning to, but he assumes Courfeyrac enjoys it, because of the small pleased groan he lets out.

Fortunately, Courfeyrac isn’t in the mood to tease Combeferre too much. Before Combeferre can process what’s happening, Courfeyrac is taking the tip of his cock between his lips and Combeferre has to use an incredible amount of willpower to not start fucking his mouth immediately. He takes a few deep breaths and concentrates on the wet, hot pleasure of Courfeyrac’s tongue caressing an especially sensitive spot. Courfeyrac swallows him skillfully and Combeferre is completely overpowered, feeling all his nerve-endings on fire, not sure what to do with his hands but hold on to Courfeyrac’s curls and relish in it.

But then Courfeyrac grabs both of Combeferre’s hips and moves them up and down, demonstrating what he wants, and Combeferre is more than happy to let go. He grips Courfeyrac’s hair harder and fucks his mouth in earnest. Courfeyrac takes it with a pleased expression, syncing his movements to it, and it’s just not fair that Combeferre can see his dimples and his blotchy flush right now, because this is the single hottest thing that he has ever witnessed and there’s no chance he’s gonna last too long. Surely, soon enough Combeferre’s entire body is shaking. He’s about to come and he needs to let Courfeyrac know, so he lets go of his hair and tries to still his hips. He taps at Courfeyrac’s hand to call his attention, but Courfeyrac ignores it and keeps sucking him ruthlessly until Combeferre comes, crying out. Courfeyrac sucks in a breath and swallows it all to the last drop.

After, Combeferre needs to shut his eyes and try to breathe for two good minutes. He opens them to see Courfeyrac’s lewd smile. His mouth looks deep red and obscenely swollen and Combeferre needs to kiss him again, slowly and filthily. Courfeyrac responds in kind, wrapping himself around Combeferre.

Eventually, their tired bodies get the best of them and they settle for just lying down together. Combeferre is surprised to know that Courfeyrac likes to be the big spoon; he hugs Combeferre from behind and won’t let go for anything in the world. Honestly, Combeferre doesn’t mind. If Courfeyrac is capable of wrecking him this much, using only his mouth, he’s eager to accept anything he has to offer.

***

Combeferre wakes up to a tickly caress on the cheek. It takes him a few seconds to understand what’s going on and focus his eyes on Courfeyrac, who is next to him on the bed, sitting cross-legged and wearing dark grey cotton boxers, holding a cup of Nutella and two spoons. Combeferre laughs, sitting up and pulling the blanket up to cover himself.

«Want?» Courfeyrac signs. Combeferre smiles, holding out his hand. Courfeyrac fills a spoon with a ton of nutella and gives it to Combeferre. Combeferre puts the spoon in his mouth and takes some of it with his lips, chewing slowly to savour it. He looks up to Courfeyrac, who’s licking the spoon in such an obscene way that it must be deliberate. Combeferre would hate him if he didn’t love him so damn much already. He stops on that thought. It’s incredible to him that he can think that so easily but not say it, nor do anything about it. He finishes his spoon looking at the bedsheets, trying to ignore the show Courfeyrac is putting on because he can’t do what he wants to do if his body doesn’t cooperate.

«Can we talk?» Combeferre signs, unsure if he should start this conversation right now, but dying to do it anyway.

Courfeyrac changes his posture as he nods slowly in reply, putting the spoon down, as if he’s bracing himself for something.

«Do you want to be my boyfriend?» Combeferre asks awkwardly.

Courfeyrac seems to be caught off-guard. He widens his eyes and blinks a few times, looking at Combeferre like he has never seen him before.

«You don’t need to», Combeferre adds quickly. Those are not the words he would choose if he were speaking, but it’s the best he can say in LSF.

Courfeyrac breathes for the first time in what seems to be hours, and then he’s gone. Combeferre hides his face in hands and curses himself for saying something like that so promptly, for ruining the amazing day they were having. Couldn’t he just be more casual about anything in his life? He starts thinking about where to find his clothes to leave when he feels the bed shift again. He peeks through his fingers. Courfeyrac is sitting on the bed again, typing fast on his phone. Combeferre slowly lowers his hands and looks at him. A century later, Courfeyrac hands him the phone.

**i’m sry, i needed to say this in a way u could understand completely. i like you a lot, ferre. from the very beginning, i guess, and i’ve been tryin so hard to fight it and i failed. i wish i’d had the guts to say all of this before now, but we didn’t have a lot of time, right? i want 2 be with u. i really do. but it’s not gonna be easy, ok?  we’re gonna struggle every day and we’re gonna get frustrated sometimes. right now, i wish we could be having this conversation looking at you and not my fucking phone. i want nothing more than to be with u, but u need to understand that our language barriers and our cultural differences will get in the way now and then. is that what u rlly want?**

Combeferre frowns more and more as he reads the note. He glances at Courfeyrac, who’s looking at him with an apprehensive expression.

_ You think our relationship would be more complicated than any other because you’re Deaf? Is that what you mean? _

**deaf/hearing relationships aren’t easy, ferre. i know that from experience. we’ll have to learn to understand each other and compromise about many things and yes, that can be harder than most relationships**

Combeferre puts the phone down resolutely. He takes a deep breath to concentrate and, with shaky hands, he starts signing. 

«I don’t care if it’s gonna be difficult. I just want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?»

In lieu of answer, Courfeyrac moves to sit close to Combeferre’s side. He grabs Combeferre’s right hand and kisses it tenderly. He closes it, lifting his pinky, making an I. Then he puts it down and raises the index and the thumb, making an L. Then he closes his fist and raises the index and the pinky again, making an Y. Finally, he puts Combeferre’s hand down and lifts his own hand with pinky, index and thumb stretched out, making the universal sign of  _ I love you _ .

Combeferre reaches for his face and makes sure Courfeyrac is looking at him when he says, “I love you.”

Courfeyrac smiles his brightest, warmest smile, dimpled and astonishingly beautiful. He vocalizes, “Combeferre,” and Combeferre’s heart stops for a moment, before resuming its beating in a desperate rhythm. He stares at Courfeyrac, completely stunned, as Courfeyrac blushes hard.

«Say it again», Combeferre pleads.

Courfeyrac says it over and over, until Combeferre can no longer stand the distance between their mouths.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before now, I didn't even realize it took me 25 days to write this chapter. I am so sorry. But now it's here, it's queer and I hope you like it. :)

Combeferre holds Courfeyrac’s face and pulls him in for a kiss, but it’s a little bit difficult at first because they’re smiling into it and their teeth keep clashing. As the kiss deepens, Courfeyrac’s voice still rings in Combeferre’s ears, hoarse with the lack of use but still pleasant and affectionate, just like himself. Combeferre knows that Courfeyrac had made the decision a long time ago not to speak to accommodate hearing people. He understands the gesture means compromise, a way to show that Combeferre is important to him. It makes him love Courfeyrac even more.

Courfeyrac nips at Combeferre’s lower lip and then pulls back a few inches. Combeferre opens his eyes to see Courfeyrac looking at him, still smiling like he just can’t stop it. As Combeferre strokes his dimpled cheek, he thinks he will never get tired of doing that. He will never get tired of this smile, this adoring look on Courfeyrac’s eyes, this knowledge that he can just reach for Courfeyrac and he will meet him halfway.

Courfeyrac retreats again and Combeferre is disappointed for half a second, until Courfeyrac grabs one of Combeferre’s hands and extends his arm to look at the tattoos on it. He inspects and traces the lines with his fingers like he had done before, though now he can see everything and here is no hesitation in the way he strokes his skin. The look on his face is analytical yet fond, and sometimes he laughs, like he can’t believe how big of a nerd his boyfriend is. After he’s finished with one arm, Courfeyrac does the same to the other. The whole thing is enough to make Combeferre half-hard under the sheets and he wonders how such a simple touch can affect him so much.

An eon later, Courfeyrac decides to let go of Combeferre’s arms. He moves his hands to Combeferre’s shoulders to support himself as he straddles his hips in a graceful motion. Combeferre wraps his arms around Courfeyrac instantly, pressing their naked chests together. He kisses Courfeyrac fiercely and Courfeyrac responds with just as much intent. Combeferre smooths his hands over every inch of skin he can reach, making Courfeyrac shudder under his touch. He bites Courfeyrac’s lip and pulls, then he lowers his mouth to bite the sensitive skin right under his jaw. Courfeyrac moans encouragingly, so Combeferre takes his time to suck and bite Courfeyrac’s neck and Courfeyrac grinds down in return, pressing their erections together. Combeferre slips his hands under Courfeyrac’s underwear and grabs his ass, clasping the firm muscles and maneuvering his hips to set a rhythm to them. Courfeyrac makes a point of thrusting his hips in precise movements, rutting against Combeferre slowly and sharply. The friction is heavenly, making Combeferre grunt and bite down hard on Courfeyrac’s neck. Courfeyrac’s hips stutter and he presses a hand to Combeferre’s chest, pushing him back.

Combeferre looks at him with concern, about to ask if he’s okay, when Courfeyrac stares him dead in the eye and mouths “ _ fuck me” _ . Then he laughs at how fast and desperately Combeferre nods. They kiss quickly again before Courfeyrac moves away to reach for the drawer on the nightstand.

He watches hungrily as Courfeyrac drops lube and condoms by his side on the bed and undresses again, making eye contact with Combeferre. Soon Combeferre is lying on top of him, deliberately kissing him at a slow pace just to make him squirm again. But Courfeyrac whines, quite literally, and he knows he should just get on with it.

Combeferre kneels on the mattress between Courfeyrac’s legs and looks down at him intently. 

«I need you to tell me if something doesn’t feel good», Combeferre tries to sign, and then he says it, to make sure. Courfeyrac nods. «Let’s try.» Combeferre slides a finger down Courfeyrac’s stomach and grabs his cock. Courfeyrac inhales sharply. «Good?» Combeferre signs with the other hand. Courfeyrac rolls his eyes impatiently, but signs «good» back. Combeferre laughs a little and lets go of Courfeyrac to get the lube.

«Good?» Combeferre signs as he teases Courfeyrac with a finger just outside his entrance. Courfeyrac huffs, petulantly, and signs «almost». Combeferre smirks, presses one finger in and waits. «Good?» he asks again. «Good», Courfeyrac answers helplessly, and Combeferre stops teasing.

Combeferre keeps his eyes on Courfeyrac the whole time he opens him up with his fingers, paying close attention to his face and the pleased noises he lets out. He savors his reactions and tries to learn from them, repeating the things that make Courfeyrac moan especially loudly or bite his lip to the point of almost splitting it. When he adds the third finger in, he uses his other hand to stroke Courfeyrac’s cock and Courfeyrac looks at him with pleading eyes.

“Good?” Combeferre asks aloud, since he can’t use his hands. Courfeyrac doesn’t answer, so he kisses Courfeyrac’s bent knee and presses down on his prostate.

“Combe _ fe _ rre!” Courfeyrac protests, startling Combeferre again. His tone is pleading and impatient, completely different from before. Even so, Courfeyrac whines at the loss of Combeferre’s fingers on and in him when Combeferre pulls back.

Combeferre puts the condom on and slicks himself quickly, feeling shy under Courfeyrac’s appreciative stare. He positions himself between Courfeyrac’s legs again, and they immediately wrap around his waist. With his eyes on Courfeyrac’s, he sinks slowly into him. Courfeyrac’s expression is pinched for a while as he gets used to the feeling, so Combeferre waits. When Courfeyrac looks more relaxed, Combeferre finds the strength to ask «Good?» once more, and Courfeyrac nods. Combeferre moves tentatively. Courfeyrac reaches out to touch the nape of Combeferre’s neck, and pulls him down for a kiss.

Courfeyrac shows him just how he likes to be fucked, guiding Combeferre’s hips with the impressively hard grip of his legs. He kisses Combeferre hard, clutches at his neck, moans into his mouth. They find their rhythm and Combeferre allows himself to let go, drowning in the multiple wonderful ways Courfeyrac makes him feel, his hips moving of their own accord.

As the pleasure builds, Courfeyrac spills a string of half-words, moans, and sobs, and Combeferre is permanently, one hundred percent certain that his voice is the best sound in the world. 

“ _ Combeferre _ ,” Courfeyrac whispers desperately, touching himself. Combeferre grasps him too. Their joined hands bring Courfeyrac to his orgasm, and he reaches it with a violent sob, clenching around Combeferre. His knees remain locked around Combeferre’s waist, so Combeferre keeps fucking him and follows right after, biting down on Courfeyrac’s neck as he comes.

They stay still for a while, catching their breath and coming down from their high. Eventually, Combeferre pulls out and discards the condom while Courfeyrac cleans himself. They lie side by side, facing each other, and Courfeyrac starts tracing random patterns on Combeferre’s skin, looking distracted. Combeferre nudges him to get his attention.

«Good?» Combeferre asks, raising an eyebrow.

Courfeyrac laughs and nods. «Very good», he signs before kissing Combeferre.

After showering together and having dinner, they come back to bed. Courfeyrac cuddles Combeferre from behind again, shoving a knee between his legs and an arm against his chest. Combeferre grabs his hand and kisses it.

“I love you,” he whispers against Courfeyrac’s skin.

***

The next day, after breakfast in bed and lazy morning sex, Combeferre comes home to find Enjolras sitting on the sofa, waiting for him in his pyjamas.

“Grantaire texted me,” Enjolras says in lieu of a greeting.

Combeferre raises his eyebrows in surprise and takes a seat beside Enjolras.

“What did he have to say?” Combeferre asks, turning to him.

“He said he’s sorry, basically,” Enjolras shrugs, not looking at Combeferre.

“Did you accept his apology?”

“Yes.” Enjolras bites his lower lip. “But there’s more to it,” he adds, meeting Combeferre’s eyes.

“What is it?”

“Well...” Enjolras sighs. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Combeferre frowns slightly and adjusts his position on the couch, getting more comfortable. He makes a gesture with his hand to prompt Enjolras to talk. Enjolras puts his feet up and curls up around himself, hugging his knees, before he starts speaking again.

“I had met Grantaire before we started having classes together. We met at a party.”

Combeferre frowns. “A party?” That doesn’t sound much like Enjolras.

“Yes. Last year I went to a party with Feuilly. I don’t remember why you didn’t go, I think you were with Jehan. So, Grantaire was there and he hit on me, he called me Apollo and he started talking about Nietzsche… It was all nonsense, but I was attracted to him, so I let him speak. It turns out we talked for a long time and at some point we kissed. It was honestly amazing, until he tried to grope me over my pants and I freaked out because if he did, he would realize I don’t have a…” Enjolras gestures awkwardly to his crotch. “Anyway, I panicked but I really didn’t want to stop, so I suggested we go to the bathroom and I...” Enjolras gathers his breath. “I blew him,” he mutters, blushing. “And then after I finished he tried to kiss me and I ran away,” he concludes, hiding his face behind his knees.

Combeferre feels his chin drop and he immediately thinks Courfeyrac must be influencing him. He has never known anything about this and he’s having a hard time trying to imagine Enjolras in this situation. Until this very second, Combeferre thought Enjolras didn’t have any sexual experience at all.

“Combeferre, are you going to say anything?” Enjolras peeks at him.

“Sorry, I was trying to deal with all this information.”

“Are you judging me?”

“For what?”

“All of it?”

“Of course not! Well, maybe running away wasn’t ideal, though I think I understand why you did it. Did you feel pressured to do it? The blowjob, I mean.”

“No, I… I wanted to. I liked it, actually.” Enjolras hides his face again and mutters something against his pyjama pants.

“Hey, it’s ok.” Combeferre reassures him, touching his knee. “Don’t be ashamed.” Enjolras looks up, still bright red in the face. “I’m glad you finally felt like sharing this with me.”

“Why?” Enjolras grimaces.

“Because you obviously have been keeping this to yourself for a while, probably feeling terrible about it, even though there was no reason to.”

“Kind of.” Enjolras shrugs.

“Ok, but that still isn’t the whole story, right?”

“No, there’s more. So, I ran away and, as you guessed, I felt terrible about it, but in the end I convinced myself it didn’t matter. Then the term started and I found out Grantaire was in my Philosophy lecture and I just wanted to vanish. It was the most awkward moment in my entire life. He actually came to talk to me by the end of the first day and he was flirting with me, but I couldn’t handle it so I dismissed him and went away. Again. So yeah, he took that as a hint that I didn’t like him and we just started arguing in class whenever we could. Well, you know the rest of the story. But there’s one more thing.” Enjolras scratched his cheek. “I think I do like him.”

That’s enough to make Combeferre burst into laughter. At first Enjolras looks surprised at his reaction, but then he just rolls his eyes.

“Stop it.”

“I’m sorry,” Combeferre breathes deeply to refrain from giggling until his stomach hurts. “I’m really sorry. I just… I knew it. When you came home and you told me how much you hated the cynic in your Philosophy class, I thought there was more to it.”

“Really?”

“Your description was very thorough, Enjolras.”

“So what?”

“What color are Courfeyrac’s eyes?” Combeferre asks defiantly.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Please answer.”

“Green?”

“No, they’re brown.”

“So what?”

“You just don’t notice people.”

“I notice things about you.”

“Yeah, but you’re my best friend and we’ve known each other our whole lives. It doesn’t count.”

Enjolras sighs.

“Okay, so you like him. Do you think he likes you?” Combeferre asks, thinking about the drawings of Enjolras he found on Courfeyrac’s notebook.

“In the beginning of term I thought maybe he might, but I have no idea anymore.”

Combeferre blinks at him.

“Tell me about the conversation you had.”

“There wasn’t much of a conversation, he just texted me saying he got my number from Courfeyrac, then he apologized profusely for what he said and asked if we could talk in person.”

“So, are you going to talk to him?”

“Yeah. I need to stop running away from him eventually.”

Combeferre snorts. “Sounds like a good idea.” 

***

On wednesday, Combeferre comes back from a date with Courfeyrac to find Grantaire leaving his apartment building.

“Grantaire?” Combeferre calls. Grantaire stops in his tracks, looking at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Hi,” Grantaire says awkwardly.

“Were you with Enjolras?”

“Yes,” he replies stiffly. “Listen, I know I hurt him that day, but I am truly sorry and I’ve told him as much. Do you hate me?”

Combeferre arches his brows in surprise at the blunt, vulnerable question.

“No,” he answers truthfully after a while. He thinks Courfeyrac must have told Grantaire how protective of Enjolras Combeferre can be, and uses it to his advantage. “But I don’t want him to get hurt again.”

Grantaire nods, looking at the floor. Then he stares back up at Combeferre, resolution written all over his face. “Me neither.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Grantaire tugs at his own hair nervously. “Well, it was nice to see you and have this incredibly awkward and intimidating conversation, but I should get going. See you around, Combeferre.”

Combeferre can’t help but laugh a bit as he says goodbye.

He enters the apartmentment to find Enjolras in his room, lying on his back and looking at the ceiling. Combeferre knocks on the open door. Enjolras turns his head to him slowly.

“Come in,” he says, sitting up and making space on his bed for Combeferre.

“I bumped on Grantaire downstairs,” Combeferre says as he takes a seat beside Enjolras. “How was your conversation?”

Enjolras sighs. “Fine. He apologized. I apologized, too. For before.”

“Oh, so you actually talked about it?”

“Yeah, I guess we’re good. We agreed we had both acted like assholes and we decided to be civil from now on.”

“ _ Civil _ ? So you didn’t tell him about your feelings?”

Enjolras snorts bitterly. “I couldn’t.”

Combeferre sighs. Enjolras and Grantaire speak the same language and, still can’t seem to communicate properly. “Come here.” He offers Enjolras a hug. Enjolras concedes.

***

Later that week, Enjolras invites all his friends - meaning his old friends and everyone Courfeyrac has introduced him to - to meet at the Musain, his favorite café. He didn’t tell anyone why, but Combeferre has a few suspicions about the reason.

Combeferre and Enjolras pick up Courfeyrac and Marius on their way there, and when they arrive, Jehan is already waiting for them. They sit around a large table and talk as they wait for the others. Jehan and Courfeyrac get along as well as Combeferre had suspected, and he’s very pleased about it.

Éponine comes in with a very cute friend who introduces herself as Cosette, and from that moment on, Marius looks like he is going to pass out. It’s very embarrassing for all involved, honestly.

Bossuet and Joly arrive with a girl who’s holding both their hands. Her name is Musichetta, she dates both of them and Courfeyrac seems incredibly excited to finally meet her.

Feuilly gets there by himself and Enjolras stands up to hug him, getting a chair for him to sit by his side. Feuilly gets received by the group quite warmly, much to Enjolras’s evident delight.

“Hey, I’m happy about you two finally being together!” Bossuet says and signs to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Soon the entire table is turned to them, offering congratulations and cooing at how adorable they apparently are together. Courfeyrac smiles until his face looks like it’s going to split and Combeferre feels his own face burn.

Then, much to the surprise of almost everyone there, Grantaire comes in accompanied by a very tall, strong and bearded guy. The conversations around the table end dramatically, everyone stopping to stare.

Combeferre watches in horror as Enjolras breathes in quite sharply, visibly nervous.

“Hi, Grantaire. I’m glad you’re here,” he says in a carefully neutral voice.

Grantaire looks at him intently for a few seconds before he finally says, “Hey, everyone,” his eyes still glued to Enjolras. “This is my friend Bahorel.” He points at the guy by his side.

Bahorel smiles pleasantly and waves at everyone. There are some introductions around the table, and Grantaire ends up sitting on the opposite side of Enjolras, far from him but facing him directly.

Some of the awkwardness dissipates and the chatter begins again in small groups. Enjolras calls everyone’s attention some minutes later.

“Feuilly, can you help me?” Feuilly nods and starts translating as Enjolras speaks. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you all to come here. Well, of course I wanted to spend time with my old friends and new.” He smiles around the table. “But there is another reason. Last Friday, when we were together, the conversation sparked something within me. I’ve realized everyone has very interesting political views and I was thinking of forming a group. A social justice group” - Combeferre notices that Enjolras looks at Grantaire firmly as he says that - “because each of us has a cause to defend. We could meet somewhere, maybe even here in the Musain, and have meetings and organize campaigns, charities, rallies, protests. Just think about it. We might not become historic, but at least we’d be doing  _ something _ to make the world better.”

“I’m in,” Cosette pipes up, surprising everyone. She blushes at the attention. “Sorry, I know I haven’t been here before, but I really like Enjolras’s idea.”

“Me too,” Marius utters a tad desperately.

Éponine looks between them and says, “Count me in.”

“We’ll do it,” Musichetta states, clearly meaning her and her boyfriends.

“I love it,” Jehan announces fiercely.

“Can I join?” Bahorel asks, earning a very appalled look from Grantaire.

“Of course,” Enjolras smiles, pleased. Too pleased, if anything. He turns to the friends sitting closer to him.

“You know I’m with you,” Combeferre grins.

“Me too,” Feuilly declares. 

Courfeyrac smiles his best smile at Enjolras and extends his hand to him over Combeferre’s lap. Enjolras takes it. Combeferre’s heart swells.

Slowly, every head turns to Grantaire, who’s looking very intently at his glass of wine.

Grantaire says nothing, so Enjolras continues speaking. “There’s something else,” he looks ahead and makes Grantaire find his eyes. “There is something about me you might not know. Of course, my closest friends already know it, but I think it’s important to tell you all.” Enjolras breathes in slowly and exhales through his mouth. Combeferre looks at his lap and sees Enjolras gripping tight at Courfeyrac’s hand. “I’m a trans man. I suppose I’ve never had a reason to go around saying ‘Hey, I’m Enjolras, I’m trans’, but I’m not ashamed of it, either. I mean, I’ve had a lot of trouble with it, growing up, but I think I’ll be able to do a lot more change with the group if I’m completely honest to everyone about who I am.”

A few of them look surprised, but everyone seems overall unfazed and supportive. Except for Grantaire, who looks just dazed and guilty.

Joly smiles warmly at Enjolras. “I’m glad you feel safe enough with us to share this. I think I speak for all of us when I say we appreciate your trust. Given that fact, I guess we should be, above all things, an intersectional LGBT group?”

“Absolutely. That’s great, I think we should benefit from having a main focus.” The group discusses the idea enthusiastically, many of them offering suggestions, and Enjolras seems happy, though it’s clear to Combeferre he’s nervous about Grantaire’s reaction to the confession he made, more than the prospect of him joining the group or not.

Time passes and the conversation breaks into smaller groups again. Enjolras is running some ideas by Jehan when Grantaire walks to his side.

“Enjolras, can we talk?”

Enjolras looks at Jehan questioningly before he turns to Grantaire and replies, “Sure.”

Jehan, Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchange looks that go from curious to worried. Eventually, they find other subjects to talk about. Éponine and Cosette leave, then Musichetta, Bossuet and Joly. Bahorel sits close to Feuilly to talk. Combeferre overhears Marius asking Jehan for romantic advice. Combeferre can’t even pay much attention because Courfeyrac starts doing something very distracting with his foot under the table.

“Why are they taking so long?” Bahorel finally asks.

They turn to him.

“They’ve really been gone for a really long time,” Feuilly says and signs.

«Do you wanna check?» Courfeyrac asks Combeferre. He shrugs, pretending he’s not dying of curiosity. The two of them get up to look around for Enjolras and Grantaire. It’s not hard to find them, after all. They’ve moved to a more hidden spot on the corner of the café. Combeferre is just a tiny bit surprised to find them kissing.

When he turns to Courfeyrac, he’s grinning. «Finally», he signs dramatically.

“They’re making out,” Combeferre announces as they come back to the table. Everyone but Marius responds with a series of relieved grunts and sighs. Combeferre looks at them. “Did you all know?”

“I was with Enjolras when they met,” Feuilly explains.

“I knew Grantaire liked Enjolras for months,” Bahorel states simply.

“He told me too,” Jehan chimes in, getting surprised looks from Combeferre and Bahorel. “What? R’s my friend.”

“What did I miss? Didn’t they hate each other?” Marius asks.

“Oh, Marius. You beautiful, naïve, sophisticated newborn baby,” Jehan looks at Marius fondly and pets his face.

***

Three months later, Combeferre finds himself in the library again, sitting with his boyfriend and best friend at his favorite table. They’ve spent two hours discussing plans for the first big protest planned by their group and they’re all excited and worried about it, but they’re also tired from running over every single detail.

When they’re done with the meeting, Courfeyrac sticks a post-it note to Combeferre’s hand. At this point, his LSF has improved a lot. He’s not quite fluent yet, but he can communicate with Courfeyrac well enough without writing things down. He looks curiously at the bright pink piece of paper.

**Can you help me find a book?**

Combeferre looks at his boyfriend with disbelief.

«Now?»

Courfeyrac writes on another post-it and sticks it on Combeferre’s wrist.

**You know how horny social justice makes me ;)**

When he looks up again, Courfeyrac licks his lips. Combeferre swallows and looks at Enjolras carefully.

“Hey Enj, I’m going to help Courfeyrac find a book he needs to write a paper.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, still doing his work. “Right. I know exactly what ‘finding books’ means, okay? You two are gross.”

“How dare you say something like that, after what I witnessed last night?”

Enjolras groans, covering his face to hide his blush. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

“No. As long as I remember what I saw, you and Grantaire are gonna hear about it.”

Embarrassed, Enjolras mutters “Whatever, just go have your kinky nerd sex.” He makes a dismissive motion with his hands. Someone at the table next to them makes a (probably horrified) shush noise.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac all but run to “find a book” against the most secluded stacks of the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap, finally! I had the greatest time writing this. Thank you all so much for sticking with me. The positive response of this fandom made me incredibly happy, and I'm glad for every comment on ao3, every message on tumblr, and every tweet.
> 
> I must send a bone-crushing hug (even though we're not very warm people) to my BAEta, who has been a real hero. Kyrstin, you are the literal best and I'd be completely lost without you. ♡

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna chat, hmu on [tumblr](http://ronnlynch.tumblr.com/)!


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